Under the Same Moon
by holadios
Summary: Love and war, tragedy and redemption. It begins with Cameron’s resignation in S1, and follows two doctors as they fight with and for each other at a tiny clinic in Africa. Mistakes are made, lives are lost, and something profound will bring them together.
1. Resignation

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to House, M.D.

**A/N:** As always, thanks goes first and foremost to the lovely **Melissa** for all the work she does. She helped me develop this plot bunny into a full story and spent hours with me doing all the research needed for this story, which is a lot of research, much more than you'd think we did after reading the story (many ideas were rejected throughout the research process). This story is going to be quite different from my others, which is a welcome change for me, and maybe you too. It's going to be longer, too, a lot longer than my recent works. It should be fun though, and I hope all of you stick with me throughout the journey! I appreciate any and all feedback, so please review!

A note on the timeline - this story is set during season one. It is AU following the episode Kids (1.19) and as many of you will notice, there are some lines from the episode Kids in the story, although they have been adapted and changed to fit this plotline.

**Dedication:** This story is dedicated to one of my loyal readers **Hallie**, who is celebrating her birthday today. Happy Birthday, dear! I hope you enjoy your birthday present!

* * *

It was time to stop avoiding the inevitable.

Cameron silently chastised herself for taking so long to make this phone call. She didn't know why, after filling out her résumé and quickly sending it off, she was so hesitant to make the phone call necessary to accept the position she had been offered. The hospital was her first choice; the location, ideal. She had always loved Philadelphia.

She didn't know why she couldn't just pick up the phone and do it. A week ago, she would have jumped at the chance to take a position at another hospital, ecstatic at the opportunity to work for someone else. She would have been thrilled at the possibility of leaving her old life (and her old, failed love, though she chose not to think about that) behind her. Everything she hated about Princeton-Plainsboro could be lost in a moment. Everything she had hated about the last eight months of her life could be gone.

If she could only make the phone call.

There was something, something internal, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, holding her back. She couldn't understand exactly what, as she had been dreaming of moving to Philadelphia and working for another doctor for weeks now. And yet something about the moment, the inevitable moment where she would truly make the decision that would change her life and the direction of her career forever, was keeping her trapped in the present.

It wasn't fear, though, because she knew what that was. It was something else, something more than fear, somewhat like fear mixed with guilt – reluctance. There was no sense of betrayal in leaving Princeton, House, Foreman and Chase. She could see this position was not the best for her, and with Vogler jumping at every opportunity to make her life difficult, perhaps it was best to get out now, while she still could. She had the opportunity of a lifetime in front of her: a chance to work for one of the leading cardiologists in the country. If someone had asked her five years ago, when she had first chosen her specialty of immunology, where she had expected to be in the present day, she hardly would have said working for a cardiologist. But opportunity knocked at strange moments: there was a leading cardiologist in Philadelphia searching for an immunologist to help him with his research about heart diseases relating to the immune system. She had taken a shot in the dark and applied.

She had been accepted.

_Dear Dr. Cameron,_ the official letter had begun, printed on its official paper with its official header and official Thomas Jefferson Hospital seal and official street address in Philadelphia. It had been a strange change from her current position, where informality was the norm and anything of official business was a thorn in her boss's side. That's where all this trouble was coming from in the first place, she reasoned. House's inability to deal with the official, _the boring_, as he would say. The rules, the standards, and procedures that had to be followed simply because they were right. She lived by those rules, took it upon herself to follow those rules, because she was a firm believer they existed for a reason. It was against her nature to work for such a nonconformist for so long.

And yet…something pulled at her as she reached for the telephone. Reluctance. In a way, working for a nonconformist was fun. It kept life interesting, at any rate. Even she, the perfectionist, had to admit that it was fun to get your hands dirty every once in awhile. She could not honestly say the job had been all bad.

But she could honestly say she couldn't work for Vogler. House, maybe; Vogler, definitely not.

"Thomas Jefferson Hospital, Office of Dr. Ambrose Yule, this is Julie. How may I help you?"

She forced herself to unstick her throat. "Yes – hi. This is Allison Cameron. I'm calling in regards to my job offer. Is Dr. Yule in?"

"Yes – I'll put you right through," Julie answered. There was a soft beep, silence, and then –

"Hello, Dr. Yule speaking."

"Dr. Yule, this is Allison Cameron," she began, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Have you had sufficient time to think over my offer? You know I would love to have you work with me on my research. I can't promise I'm the same as Dr. House, but I can sincerely say I hope to be a much better mentor than Dr. House. I _can _promise you that you won't find me breaking so many rules. No, no, rules and regulations are important here at Jefferson!"

She was taken aback by the doctor's sudden mention of her soon-to-be-former boss, but she hid her surprise well. "Yes, I have had enough time," she answered slowly. "Thank you for your generous offer…I am – I am calling to accept."

"Wonderful!" Yule said happily. "Wonderful, that's wonderful, Dr. Cameron. I cannot wait to work with you. Is Monday too soon for you to start? We could meet for coffee in my office around eight?"

"Um – sure, okay," she replied, slightly bewildered by his enthusiasm. "I'll be there."

"Great!" he intoned. "Until then!"

There was a click, and then the line went dead. She stared at the cold receiver in her hand for a few more seconds, wondering exactly what she had just done.

* * *

The mug of tea was warm in her cold hands. She pressed her palms to the smooth exterior, bringing the mug to her lips and inhaling the comforting aroma of cinnamon sugar. She tentatively took a sip of the hot liquid and then set the mug back down, hugging her arms around herself. Darkness was falling outside her window, and she was about ready to pull out her novel before going to bed.

She stood up slowly from the couch and was about to pick up her mug again when the knocking began on her. She sighed heavily. She had a pretty good idea who was outside. Feeling there was no use avoiding him, she walked slowly to her front door and pulled it open.

"Pizza delivery!" he exclaimed loudly. "They said you specially ordered the delivery from a guy with a limp. I didn't know you missed me that badly."

"I don't miss you," she replied, not missing a beat. "Why are you here?"

"You need to come back," he answered. "What am I supposed to do about my letters? All of my 'g's are going to look suspiciously less girly."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "I can't come back. I told you that."

"Wasn't listening," he said nonchalantly.

"Right." Her tone was cold and she stared him down.

He looked at her seriously. "You want me to listen to you more? I can do that."

She swallowed. "Right. I already accepted a position somewhere else."

The expression on his face was clear enough: her words had taken him aback. He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "With who?"

"Yule, at Jefferson." _This morning,_ she added in her head.

There was a pause, and then – "Unaccept it."

Her hands tightened around her folded arms. "Why?"

"Because Yule is boring," he began loudly. "He's pedantic and preachy." He paused. "Because he's short." He looked directly at her. "Because I want you to come back."

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Not…good enough."

"Want more money?" he asked seriously. "A car allowance, better parking space?" He tapped on his cane. "Want me to date you?"

She almost laughed. "You think dating you will make me want to work for you?"

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his gruff voice softer, with just a hint of a plea.

She stared at him carefully for a moment, and then reached for the doorknob. "Nothing," she whispered before shutting the door in his surprised face.


	2. Khayelitsha

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to House, M.D.

**A/N:** I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I have had the longest month ever. Thanks to all of you that reviewed or put this story on alert last time; I loved hearing what you reviewers had to say. Eternal thanks to my lovely beta reader Melissa, who put up with a really crappy first draft of this chapter. Enjoy and please review!

* * *

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since leaving Princeton Plainsboro, two weeks since leaving House and the Diagnostics Department, and two weeks since moving to Philadelphia. Her apartment was nice, not much different from the one she left in Princeton. The office was crisp and clean, very different from the one she had left in Princeton. After about a week, she had decided the people were nice…enough. There were at least no Vicodin-addicted infectious disease and nephrology double-specialists to make her life difficult.

Or interesting.

The office was overwhelmingly immaculate. The research was stacked and organized into filing cabinets, folders, and neat piles on her desk. The walls were bare; she had never had any walls to display anything on and hadn't quite gotten used to this freedom yet. Perhaps the most noticeable difference was the lack of the white board. She supposed such a thing was not needed for this job.

No patients to diagnose. No siblings to interrogate. No parents' hearts to break… She supposed those were all good things, but she missed it - meeting people, being able to touch their lives in a way, even if that just made it harder when someone died. Now there was no one to die; there was just research, just piles of paper for her to read. Articles and lecture notes and books…it seemed the work would never end. Then again, work as a doctor never did.

A knock sounded on her office door, and she was momentarily jerked from the file she had been poring over. She looked up, wondering who it could be. If it were Yule, he would have knocked and then entered. This person was still waiting outside. "Come in," she called.

Her office door opened and a tall man entered. He had sandy brown hair and looked to be in his mid-thirties. She watched him as he walked toward her.

"Dr. Cameron?"

"Yes?" she answered hesitantly.

"I'm Daniel Weiss, Head of Psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania Medical Center. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand. She shook it, taking in his appearance. He wasn't wearing a lab coat, but then again, this wasn't his building, and at any rate, she'd learned months ago that the lack of a lab coat did not mean someone was not a doctor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," she said slowly, wondering what a psychiatrist could be doing here. "What can I do for you?"

He smiled at her. "I'm sorry to have bothered you like this…I know you must be very confused." She gave a small nod, continuing to watch him with curiosity. "Do you…mind if we sit?" he asked, indicating the table with four chairs behind him. "I have something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Oh…okay." She frowned, wondering what this stranger had to say. Cameron wasn't really in the consulting business, so it was unlikely he had come for a consult. She didn't recognize him from Princeton-Plainsboro either – maybe he was related to a former patient? She stood up from her desk and walked over to the round table. She sat down and he followed suit. "Go ahead," she said, folding her hands together in her lap.

"I…Well, I guess I'll just come right out and ask you," he began awkwardly. She frowned slightly, but nodded. "How much do you know about MSF?"

_Medecins Sans Frontieres?_

"MSF?" she repeated. "Doctors Without Borders?"

"So you've heard of it." Cameron nodded. "They've got a rape clinic right outside of Cape Town, in Khayelitsha – I mean, they have clinics and projects all over the world, but this is one of their more recent projects. Down there, they have lots of women and children – boys and girls – getting raped. Horrible sight. Last time I was there, this pregnant woman came in. She'd been raped, was bleeding all over the place." He sighed. "We did the best we could, but there was just too much blood loss. She died."

Cameron bit her lip. "And the baby?"

He shook his head. "Also died. He was too premature to last long without proper treatment. The clinic doesn't have anything like the facilities you have here. I've seen your PICU. You aren't going to find anything like that down there."

She nodded, still unsure of what he wanted. He must have seen her questioning stare, because he continued, "The clinic needs a psychiatrist to help the rape victims and their families. I'm going back there next week."

"Oh…" she replied. She immediately wanted to kick herself; she should have sounded more enthusiastic than that. "That's great!" Cameron exclaimed loudly. "That you're going to help them, that is," she added quickly. "Not that so many people are being raped." She cringed.

He smiled indulgently at her. "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

Her jaw dropped in shock. Go to Africa? To a rape clinic?

_What?_

"I – I don't know if I can," she answered quickly. "I mean, I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm an immunologist."

He nodded. "That's exactly why I'm asking you to come with me." She frowned, and he continued, "In that part of the world, over half the rape victims we see are positive for HIV - if they don't have AIDS already. With so many weakened immune systems, tuberculosis has run rampant. People die every day from a disease we never even see in the United States, and it's because there's no medicine, no help, no one to fix it.

"That's why I need an immunologist. The clinic needs one to help with the rape victims, help treat them, help them learn about the diseases they have or are at serious risk for getting. You're the best immunologist in Philadelphia – your reputation from Dr. House precedes you."

"You know Dr. House?" Cameron asked. She laughed hollowly. "He'd marry Wilson before saying something like that about anyone."

"All right, he didn't say it quite like that," Weiss conceded. "What he actually said was that you cry every time a patient dies and your compassion clouds your judgment. Once we take away Gregory House's tendency toward exaggeration and his uncanny ability to hide compliments in insults, I'd say you are a very compassionate doctor who always puts patient care first. That's what makes you the best immunologist, at least for this job. So…do want it?"

Cameron felt trapped. Saying no would make her sound like a horrible person, but saying yes was just, well, impossible. He wasn't talking about a consult; he was talking about going to Africa. She'd never seen herself working anywhere else but America, and while that didn't mean she couldn't change, the idea of change was just…unreal.

"I – I'm sorry, Dr. Weiss," she heard herself say. "I would really love to help you, but I don't think I can go. I just started working here, and I don't know if I can take the time off to go to Africa…"

"Why don't you talk to Dr. Yule about it and see what he says?" Weiss interjected. "If it's something you would really like to do, you should at least ask."

She nodded vaguely. "I'll think about it."

Weiss smiled. "Good." He pulled his business card from his pocket and handed it to her. "Call me when you know."

* * *

She knocked on the hard oak door. "Enter!" a man's voice called.

She stepped inside Yule's office, with the polished red oak bookshelves stacked high with papers and his research. He looked up when he saw her. "Dr. Cameron," he said seriously. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon. I heard you were visited by Danny Weiss today."

"Yes, I was," she replied, as she sat in the chair in front of his desk.

"He's an old friend of mine." Yule paused and considered her seriously. "What did Danny want?"

She swallowed and looked directly at her boss. "He wants me to come to Africa with him."

Yule nodded. "Danny always had a thing for Africa. He's probably been there three times in the last five years. I met him when we were at Johns Hopkins together. He started out in cardiology, you know, but then his sister was diagnosed with schizophrenia. He turned to psychiatry after that."

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. "He wants to work with rape victims in Khayelitsha," she said quietly.

"The Simelela Clinic," Yule supplied knowingly. "He's worked there a couple times before, at least."

"He needs an immunologist."

Yule nodded. "So he asked you."

"Yes," Cameron replied.

"Do you want to go?" he asked her seriously.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I don't know."

He considered her a moment and then stood up and walked over to one of his many bookshelves. From the bottom shelf, he extracted a dark leather photo album. He handed it to her and sat back down at the desk.

Cameron opened the cover uncertainly. "What is this?" she asked. He didn't answer immediately, but continued to watch as she leafed through the pages.

It wasn't exactly a photo album. While she recognized Dr. Weiss in many of the pictures, usually surrounded by patients, it was clear this book was not made to preserve happy memories. Below each picture of the various patients was the patient's date and cause of death. Wide-eyed children stared back at her through emaciated faces. Little girls curled up next to their dead mothers. Tears pulled at the corners of her eyes. So many faces, so many names, so many dead. When she reached the last page, her stomach plummeted.

SIMELALA CLINIC, Khayelitsha, South Africa, 2003.

"Danny gave this book to me about four years ago," Yule began softly. "This was his first time at the clinic. He put this together in an attempt to convince me to go there with him."

"Did you?" she whispered.

Yule shook his head. "No. I thought about it for a long time, but in the end, I decided it wasn't for me. I had just started a new research project...it just wasn't a good time. I think, though, Africa is just not for me. I can't work at a place like that."

She looked up at him. "Do you think that I could?"

He nodded. "I think you have to. You're not like me, Dr. Cameron. You like research, but your passion is with patients. I devoted myself to research eight years ago and have only seen a handful of patients since then, and I'm fine with that. But you're different. You need patients. You need to help them…in a more direct way than research, I'm beginning to see. You're meticulous and thorough; you are great at what you do. But it's not where your heart is. I'm not surprised that Danny Weiss came to you. You're exactly the kind of person this clinic needs."

She stared at him in surprise. "But – but what about my job? I am working for you! I can't just drop everything and hop on a plane to Africa!"

He shrugged. "Sure you can. My research can wait two months, saving the world can't."


	3. Home

**Disclaimer:**Even though I haven't updated this story in almost a year, I still own nothing.

**A/N:** Um...hi. So, I was randomly inspired last night after updating my other story (Cetera Desunt) to continue with this one. I realize it's been practically a year since I last updated, but I do plan on changing that. I have already mapped out the next three chapters, so the updates should not take nearly as long from here on out. For those of you CD fans, do not fear, I am still working on that story and hope to have the next chapter up by the end of the week. So...I'm going to attempt to work on two stories at once. Don't like it? Take it up with my muse.

**A/N:** To the lovely Melissa, with my most heartfelt thanks, for breaking her sleeping patterns to help me update this story again. Let's see how late we can stay up tonight.

* * *

Sun shined through the dirty window forcing her eyes to open. She blinked several times, trying to remember how she had found herself in this uncomfortable position. Her neck protested as she shifted herself to a more upright sitting position and rolled her neck slowly several times, working out the kinks that had built up during her short nap. She checked her watch and sighed. It had only been two and a half hours.

"We're somewhere over the Atlantic."

Weiss's voice startled her, and she turned immediately to her left where he was reading the latest copy of the _Washington Post_. He folded the paper and offered it to her, but she declined with a shake of her hand. Placing the paper in the seat pocket, he said, "I think we're almost to the coast."

Cameron just nodded. She had never been a fan of flying, and the non-stop flight from Washington-Dulles to Johannesburg was really pushing her to the limit. Approaching the western coast didn't mean much, she noted, looking at the flight map being displayed on the monitor. They easily had a few hours left in this elevated prison.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Weiss asked her as the flight attendant began pushing her cart down the aisle yet again. He drank his coffee black while Cameron took some water.

"I really hate flying," she muttered. He laughed.

"It's really the worst part," he assured her. "Once we get to the clinic, everything will be great. Well…as great as it can be there, at any rate."

She nodded slowly. "Do they know that I am coming?"

"Yes," he answered. "I called to let them know I was bringing a friend as soon as you told me your answer. They were thrilled." He smiled at her. "So am I."

She returned his smile cautiously. "How many times have you been there?"

"This is my fifth time at Simelala," he told her. "I've done some work in Kisangani for MSF too, but I always find myself coming back to the rape clinic."

"Why?" Cameron wanted to know.

He exhaled slowly, pondering the question. "I don't know," he began softly. "There's just something about it…about seeing all of those people, all of those victims…and being able to do something about it. Kisangani is a war-torn place. It's like the ER, except without supplies. Simelala is different. It's a rape clinic; we help people who have been hurt by violence, but not war. It always hurts to see how one person can violate another. But these are the people who need our help most of all."

"Is it dangerous?"

"It's not America," he replied heavily. "I'm not going to lie and say it's completely safe, but it's unlikely you'll be blown up by any stray bombs there." He hesitated slightly, and then continued, "It might be…erm…less safe for you…because you – you are…"

"…a woman," Cameron finished softly.

He winced and nodded. "The clinic will be safe. It's just the surrounding area you have to be careful in. Don't worry though – I know this area really well. I'll make sure you're never alone."

Cameron bit her lip. "Has that, um, ever happened before?"

He sighed and nodded. "Once or twice, yeah. But both times, they were in places they probably shouldn't have been in, at an hour when they really should have been back at the clinic. As long as you are careful, you should be relatively safe."

"Okay," she said softly, processing the information. It wasn't completely unexpected. After all, she hadn't expected the area to be constantly watched by patrol cars. This isn't America, she reminded herself. She had to be willing to change, willing to accept the new challenges and new dangers that came with this job. Hiding from reality was futile.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, she was met with the discomfort of her ears popping as the pressure rose and the plane descended. She looked over to her companion, who was staring straight ahead, looking deep in thought. She turned back to look out the window, watching as the plane's wheels came out and the flaps on the wings came up in preparation for landing. She closed her eyes as the plane touched down a bit hard on the tarmac, and let out a deep breath.

Weiss chuckled. "Relieved?"

She laughed self-consciously, unaware how loudly she had sighed. "Just a bit," she said with a smile.

He nodded and began collecting his things. "We've got a few hours before the connecting flight to Cape Town," he told her as he placed his books back into his briefcase. "Shall we see what delicacies Johannesburg has to offer in their airport?"

It turned out there weren't too many delicacies offered by Johannesburg International Airport, at least not the terminal they were in. Cameron ended up with a ham sandwich that had probably been sitting in the wrapper a bit too long. Weiss just took more black coffee. She asked him how he could stand such a bitter taste and he replied that working at the clinic had forced him to get used to it. They didn't spend money on trifles like sugar or cream when the money could be better spent elsewhere on supplies and medicine.

They reached the gate with over an hour to spare. Weiss dozed off almost immediately, despite having had the coffee, while Cameron perused the various travel brochures. Hikes, tours, museums…she wondered if she would have a chance to come back someday as a tourist. All too soon, Cameron found herself boarding yet another plane. She was sincerely glad this would be the last flight for awhile.

"Don't worry," he reassured her as they settled into their seats. "After this, your only mode of transportation will be by foot."

She nodded and smiled. "I'm glad." She turned to look out the window as the ground fell away from her once more and the plane took off.

She must have fallen asleep, because next thing she knew, someone was shaking her awake. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around disconcertedly, caught by surprise by the unfamiliar scenery. Her gaze fell on Weiss, who offered her a wide smile.

"We're here," he told her.

Cameron sighed with relief as the plane taxied to the gate. They had collected their bags from baggage claim in relatively short order, and then Weiss led her outside to ground transportation. He checked his watch. "The van should be here any minute."

"Van?" she repeated. "I thought you said we'd only be walking after this."

He laughed. "Must have slipped my mind," he said with a sly smile. "I promise," he said as the van pulled up, "you will only be walking after this."

"Danny!" the driver greeted him warmly as he jumped out of the van. Weiss' face broke into a grin as he embraced his companion.

"It's great to see you again, Scott," he said. He gestured for Cameron to come over. "I've brought someone with me this time."

Scott winked at him. "You managed to convince a pretty lady to follow you all the way to Khayelitsha? You dog, how did you manage that one?"

Weiss offered an apologetic smile to Cameron. "Ignore him," he told her. "He's just sad he hasn't gotten any in months."

"He's hardly one to talk," protested Scott. "He hasn't gotten any in years!"

Weiss laughed. "I assure you, that's not true," he said quickly.

Scott just shook his head. "You've forgotten your manners, Danny Boy. You can't bring a girl to the clinic and not even tell me her name!"

Weiss opened his mouth, but Cameron cut him off. "It's Cameron," she said, extending her hand. "Allison Cameron."

Scott beamed. "Allison Cameron, eh? That seems too formal a name if you're going to be working with Danny Boy here. I'm going to call you Allycat."

Weiss groaned. "Scott has a nickname for everyone."

Cameron smirked. "So I see, _Danny Boy_."

"Touché."

Scott checked his watch. "We better get going." He reached his hand out for the luggage and then loaded it into the back of the van. Cameron and Weiss climbed in quickly and they were off.

"So how did you manage to get a girl to come back here with you anyway?" Scott asked as he merged onto the main road.

"Dr. Cameron is an immunologist at--"

"Oh, please!" Scott said, cutting him off with his hand. "Let her tell her own story. And I won't have any of this 'Dr. Cameron' nonsense while I'm driving. A girl like that deserves to be called by her first name – or at least a variation of it."

Cameron laughed. "Well, I am an immunologist, but I worked for about eight months in the Diagnostics Department at a hospital in New Jersey. I was working for a cardiologist in Philadelphia when Dr. Weiss…Daniel came to see me."

Scott snorted. "He's no Daniel to me. He's either Danny or he's nobody. Daniel makes him sound like he just got out of one of the snooty private schools in Britain. Like Eton or something."

Weiss looked over at her. "Ignore him. He gets cranky when he's jealous," he added, raising his voice.

"Yeah?" Scott challenged. "Well, believe me I got plenty to be jealous of." He pulled the van off the dirt path and parked outside the clinic. Cameron looked up and read the worn sign: Simelala Clinic. "Here we are, Allycat. Home sweet home."

Cameron opened the door and stepped out of the van. Though she hadn't yet stepped inside the clinic, she could see what little there was through the open window. She could see beds filled with sick patients that she imagined were either coughing incessantly or tossing and turning as they were plagued by feverish dreams. She knew there would be mostly women and children, all weak, all sick. Through the window she could only see one nurse tending making rounds. She knew there would never be enough medicine to help them all, and never enough people in the world to save them.

She had never seen anything that looked less like home.

* * *

**A/N:** So...here's to hoping it doesn't take me nearly as long to update this story again. But don't worry, it's kind of hard to beat 350+ days. If you review, you will be encouraging me to update even sooner. I do apologize that this chapter feels very transitional, but I hope that you enjoyed the ending at least (I had the most fun with that part). The next chapter will be more interesting and the next two after that even more so. Thanks for reading!


	4. Touche

**Disclaimer: **Does someone want to buy me them for my birthday? Because I still own nothing!

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the great response last time. All your reviews made me really excited to continue writing this story. I'm glad to know it hasn't been completely abandoned by readers after the long hiatus. To those of you wishing this was an update of _Cetera Desunt_, I'm sorry, but my muse has denied you. I'm thinking there will be two more chapters of this story before another update of CD if my muse continues to cooperate. But who knows. Muses are tricky beings.

**A/N:** Melissa, do I even need to say it? Waar kan ek 'n droogskoonmaker vind? Also, please note that several lines in this chapter came from online sources: Google translator or a nifty website that gave basic Afrikaans phrases. I am sorry for any inaccuracies that you may notice, though if you know Africaans I will be more impressed than apologetic.

* * *

"Heads up, Dr. Cameron! There's another one coming your way!"

Cameron sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was her fourth day here, but it was by far the hottest, despite it being autumn. The limited ventilation in the clinic did little to help fight the heat. She pulled off her gloves and smiled reassuringly at her patient. The young girl didn't smile back, but Cameron wasn't surprised. She didn't expect eleven-year-old rape victims to have very much to smile about. She promised the girl she would be back soon, and then took off toward the nurse who was waving her over.

"Thanks, Mary," she said as she took the chart. Weiss had told her Mary had been with MSF for eight years, and although she was native to South Africa, she had spent most of her time working in other African countries. She was fluent in English, Afrikaans, all right in Zulu, and also knew how to communicate in a handful of other languages, which, as Weiss had said, made her dead useful. She had only been at the rape clinic in Simelela for a few months. Cameron could already see how the rapes had affected the nurse.

Cameron grabbed Mary's arm to stop her from leaving. In an undertone she asked, "Um, sorry, how do you…?"

"It's like you would in English, except without the 'h'," Mary whispered back. Cameron nodded her thanks and released her. She looked back at the chart, brushing her hand along her forehead again as she did so. It really was too hot. She had been on her feet for hours, unable to take a break as they were short-staffed. Scott and one of the other nurses had taken the van to the local market to buy more water, as the clinic was desperately short. The water had to be rationed out to the patients, which left little for the staff. She hoped they would return soon.

"Themba, I'm Dr. Cam…" Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the child sitting on the bed. The girl had long dark hair and couldn't have been more than six.

"…Allison," she finished, trying to keep her tone even. "My name is Allison."

The girl didn't look up. Her only indication of having heard Cameron at all was her wrapping her arms around her legs and drawing them to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees and began rocking slowly back and forth.

Emotion welled inside of her; the sight really was pitiful. She took a step closer and bent down so she was eye-level with the young girl. "Hey," she said softly. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you." She unclipped her ID and showed it to the girl. "My name is Allison and I'm a doctor. I like to help people."

Themba stuck a thin hand out and tentatively touched the ID. She ran her fingers over Cameron's photograph, slowly tracing the outline of her face. Then she looked up. "_Ji is mooi_."

Cameron's heart sank. Themba didn't speak English. She looked around for Mary, but the nurse was nowhere to be seen. All the same, Cameron knew the clinic was too short-staffed for two people to work on the same patient at once today, though she and Mary had worked together a few times before. She would have to do the best she could.

The girl dropped her gaze back to the ID. Cameron hesitated, wondering if she should say something else, but then the girl spoke again. "Al..li..son," she said carefully. "_Kan jy my help_?"

Help? Cameron hoped that was a cognate. She smiled encouragingly. "Help?" she repeated. "Do you want me to help you?" She asked the question slowly, pointing to herself and then to Themba.

"Help?"

"Help," Cameron repeated.

Themba stared at her for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "_Praat u Afrikaans_?

_Something Afrikaans?_ Cameron shook her head. "No, I don't – I don't understand. I only speak English, I'm sorry…"

"_Kan u langsaam praat?"_

Cameron could feel her cheeks growing red. She couldn't do this. She had no idea what the girl was saying. She desperately needed a translator.

"I am going to find someone to help us," she said slowly. "Someone who speaks Afrikaans." She could tell Themba recognized at least one of the words. "Wait here," she told her, using her hands to gesture to the girl and then the bed. She waited a few seconds to see if Themba would respond and when she didn't, Cameron turned to leave.

She felt the hand on her wrist almost immediately. "_Laat my nie_," Themba said tearfully. "_Laat my nie_!"

Cameron could only shake her head. "I'm sorry," she said yet again, as she tried to pry Thembra's fingers from around her wrist. "I'm trying to help--"

Themba began to cry. "_Laat my nie, laat my nie_!" she sobbed. "_Ek is bang. Ek wil my suster. Laat my nie_!"

Cameron could only watch helplessly as Themba's cries grew louder. She tried to reassure her, but the unfamiliar language didn't comfort the young patient. Themba's fingers were still clenched around her wrist, and Cameron didn't want to risk her crying louder if she tried to move away for help.

"Everything okay here?"

With a sigh of relief, Cameron recognized Mary's voice. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again. "I don't speak Afrikaans…"

Mary impatiently brushed her apology aside and turned to Themba. "_My naam is Mary. __Kan jy my vertel wat is fout?"_

Cameron felt Themba release her immediately when she recognized her native Afrikaans. Cameron stepped back from the bed and let Mary take over. She watched the nurse talk to the patient for a few moments, and when it became clear that she would not be needed, she slipped quickly away.

* * *

It was night. Cameron was lying on her back on her cot, staring up at the ceiling. After Mary had taken over the young Afrikaans girl, Cameron had been given only older patients who all spoke English. While she appreciated the gesture, she was embarrassed by her own limitations. Not knowing the language had been bad enough; scaring a patient to the point of tears was almost more than she could bear.

A soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and then called, "Come in!"

Weiss entered slowly, carrying two mugs of tea. He handed one to her and she accepted gratefully. 'It's chamomile," he told her. "Supposed to be calming."

She laughed dryly. "You know that there's no medical evidence that actually supports that claim, right?"

He shrugged. "Ever heard of the placebo effect?"

She smiled and sipped at her tea. She wasn't sure if it was him or the tea (or the placebo effect), but she was starting to feel slightly better about her day.

As though he knew what she was thinking about, he said, "Mary told me about what happened earlier. I'm sorry, Allison. I should have warned you."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I should have had a translator."

He brushed off her comment. "It's difficult to find enough staff members to cover all the patients and serve as translators. Sometimes, you have to make do the best that you can."

Cameron sighed. "I've never had a patient start crying before because I scared them. I'd have to say my best is pretty horrible."

Weiss smiled sympathetically. "You'll get better. You will start to hear the language more, and you'll recognize the important phrases."

Cameron looked down. Learning from experience wasn't going to be a fast enough teacher. "How much do you know?" she asked.

He smirked. "_Ek is vloeiend_."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him. "That's not fair – you're fluent!"

He laughed. "And you're not as bad as you think! That's exactly what I said – 'I am fluent.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. I'm-fluent-in-Afrikaans-but-you-can-learn-from-experience, what else can you teach me?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Repeat after me: _My Afrikaans is sleg._"

"_My…Afrikaans…is…sleg?_"

He laughed again, a loud booming laugh that echoed off the walls. "Yes, it certainly is."

Her eyes widened. "What did you make me say?"

He winked. "My Afrikaans is bad."

She laughed. "I guess that's fair…What else can you teach me?"

And so it went on. It turned out that Weiss was a pretty effective teacher. Soon Cameron could say all sorts of phrases: _Wat is jou naam?, My naam is Allison Cameron_, and _Ek werk soos 'n dokter._ Weiss seemed pleased by her progress.

"Repeat after me," he said after an hour. "_Jy is baie vriendlik._"

"_Jy is baie vriendlik_."

"Why, thank you."

She rolled her eyes. "What did you make me say this time?"

"You are very kind."

"Why, thank you," she responded, laughing. "What else can you manipulate me into saying?"

He smiled coyly. "_Gee my 'n soen._"

Cameron eyed him carefully before slowly repeating, "_Gee my 'n soen._"

Weiss' smiled broadened. "As you wish." He leaned over and kissed her.

Cameron was surprised, but she didn't pull away. She laughed. "How did I know that you would do something like that?"

"How did I know you would let me?"

She smiled and kissed him again. "Touché."

* * *

**A/N:** Please review. I love to know what you are thinking! This chapter was one of my favorites to write, especially the last section. Your reviews inspire me to write and feed my muse.


	5. Sipho

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**A/N:** Once again, thanks for all the reviews last time! I'm sorry this chapter took me a bit longer to get up; I wrote it late at night, which resulted in a lot more edits from the lovely beta. All of you that reviewed really made my day. I've never written a story like this before and it heartens me to know that you are enjoying it.

**A/N:** Melissa, what can I say? Next time I won't use the word 'that' at all. I wonder how long I can last without it.

* * *

The next week passed without any more language incidents, although Weiss had still found reasons to continue giving her nightly lessons. Usually the lessons deviated from learning Afrikaans to learning about each other, and on most occasions – the ones where she wasn't completely exhausted from the day's work in the clinic – they deviated even further from there. More than a few times, she had not spent the night alone on her cot.

The weather was starting to change. The days were still warm, but the nights were becoming progressively colder. Cameron welcomed the temperature change, as the heat had been quite a change from the after-winter she had been experiencing on the East Coast. At any rate, the temperature in the clinic had become much more bearable.

Today, in fact, seemed to be unusually chilly, and Cameron had given blankets to several patients already. It was the first day since her arrival that she hadn't found herself with sweat dripping down her forehead. That was another welcome change.

"Hey, Dr. Cameron." She turned around as she heard Mary's voice. She was glad the language incident last week hadn't permanently marred her relationship with the young nurse; on the contrary, Mary hadn't mentioned the situation since. She noticed the nurse had two other people with her, a girl and a boy. The girl was thin and seemed small for her age, which Cameron thought to be at least sixteen. The boy looked younger, maybe twelve, but he was tall. She could tell they were related, as they both had the same dark hair and dark eyes.

"This is Nomzamo," Mary introduced, indicating the girl, "and her brother, Sipho. Both are here fairly regularly, so I thought I'd introduce them to you. Although," she said, frowning and turning to the children, "You missed your appointment last week."

Nomzamo didn't move, but Sipho quickly opened his mouth to respond. "She wasn't feeling well and took a nap. I didn't want to wake her."

"Ah," said Mary, though she was still frowning slightly. "Well, these meetings are important, Nomzamo, so do try your best to come. Anyway, this," she continued, gesturing at Cameron, "is Dr. Cameron, the newest member of our staff. She's an immunologist from America."

Cameron extended her hand to both children. "Allison is fine," she told them.

Sipho's eyes widened as he shook her hand. "An immunologist?" he repeated. "Like someone who deals with infectious diseases?"

Cameron was momentarily stunned. Her first thought was that she was so relieved to hear the child speak English, especially since it sounded like he and his sister came to the clinic often. Her next thought was of House; his specialty had been infectious diseases, not hers.

Recovering herself, she smiled and shook her head. "No, but good guess. An immunologist deals with the functions – and malfunctions -- of the immune system."

"Ooh," Sipho answered, nodding his head. "So things like AIDS?"

"Yes, like AIDS," she confirmed.

"That's enough, Sipho," Mary interjected. "Dr. Cameron is very busy and we don't want to take up any more of her time. We have to get Nomzamo to her appointment now."

Cameron looked back at the teenage girl. Though her hair was short, her bangs were long enough to fall in front of her face when she moved her head. She seemed disinterested in the clinic and her surroundings in general. Cameron wondered why she was there, and then realized with a pang that the clinic also offered counseling services for rape victims. Judging from the girl's forlorn appearance and apparent discomfort, she assumed that's why she had come.

"Can't I stay out here with Allison?" Sipho asked Mary with a pleading look on his face. "It's so boring sitting in the waiting room by myself for an hour."

Mary was already shaking her head. "No, Sipho, come on, let's go. You can see Dr. Cameron again another time--"

"No, it's okay," Cameron interrupted her, looking at Sipho. "I don't mind if he stays with me. I can keep an eye on him for an hour. He can be my little helper."

Sipho grinned and turned back to Mary. "See? She wants me here."

Mary shrugged and relented. "Fine," she said. Taking Nomzamo by the shoulders, she began to lead her away.

Sipho looked at Cameron again. "We come here every week," he told her. "Nomzamo has to receive counseling. Well, she doesn't _have _to, but Mary and the other doctor want her to come. And sometimes she takes medicine, too." He dropped his voice. "She was raped."

Cameron winced; she had already figured as much, but it felt strange to hear the girl's brother tell her what had happened in such an emotionless tone. "I'm sorry," was all she could say. _Nomzamo probably has HIV or AIDS_, she realized. _That's why she has to take medication_.

"It's not too bad," Sipho said. "I like coming here every week. I want to be a doctor."

Cameron smiled. "That's great!" she said enthusiastically. "We can always use more doctors."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. And the first thing I do when I become a doctor is find a cure for AIDS."

"Wow," she said. "That's very ambitious of you."

He looked at her seriously. "My mother died of AIDS." Cameron froze as pity welled inside of her. "And I was born with HIV."

Cameron could only blink. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. How could he dream of becoming a doctor when his life could very well be over in just a few short years? Or sooner, if he were to contract some kind of disease?

Almost as though he had read her mind, he said, "That's why I'm studying to be a doctor now. I want to find the cure for AIDS if it kills me."

Cameron smiled back weakly. How had he already come to terms with the fact he probably wouldn't live to see his eighteenth birthday? How had he already accepted death? _But he hasn't_, a voice in her head insisted. _He's looking for the cure._

_Looking for a cure he's never going to find._

"Well," she said, grabbing another chart, "how would you like to start learning right now?"

He grinned. "You mean – I get to treat patients?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his excitement. "No," she told him, "unfortunately, you can't. But you can _help_ me treat patients."

"Like your little helper?" he asked, using her words from earlier. When she nodded he wrinkled his nose. "I don't like it. It sounds too juvenile. Can I be your assistant instead?"

Cameron quickly stifled another laugh before nodding and saying 'yes.'

* * *

"Allison, did you hear me?"

Cameron lifted her head. "I'm sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "What did you say?"

It was late and, as was their nightly ritual, Cameron and Weiss were in her room. Tonight the language lesson had been very brief, something Cameron wasn't complaining about. Her mind was elsewhere, distracted by memories of the hour she had spent with Sipho. He had been reluctant to leave once Nomzamo had emerged from her meeting with the counselor, and Cameron had been disappointed to see him go. It wasn't every day one met someone intent on saving the world before he could even grow facial hair.

Weiss brushed aside her apology. "I said it was cold and asked if you wanted another blanket."

"Oh…" she said slowly. "Sure."

He pulled a blanket out of the closet and handed it to her. "Where's your mind tonight?" he asked as he sat back down next to her. He gently stroked her cheek. "Are you tired?"

Cameron shook her head. "No – I mean, yes, I am – but that's not it. I was thinking about this boy I met today. He came to the clinic with his sister."

"Ah," Weiss said knowingly. "Sipho and Nomzamo, right?"

Cameron nodded. "Are they that famous?"

"Nomzamo is," Weiss said. "She came into the clinic last month after being gang-raped. She was barely conscious when she arrived. Sipho practically dragged her in through the door."

Cameron's jaw dropped and she eyed Weiss sadly. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That must have been awful."

"It was," he confirmed. "We weren't sure she was going to make it through the night. She had lost a lot of blood in the attack. She was in a coma for a few hours, but eventually pulled through. Her brother never left her side the entire time."

Cameron bit her lip, thinking about how energetic Sipho had been earlier that day. It pained her to think of him having to sit next to the still body of his sister. She imagined him begging her to wake up, promising her he'd work harder to become a doctor and find a cure for AIDS if she could just pull through. Their mother was dead; if his sister had died, Sipho would have been all alone.

"Does the sister have HIV, too?"

Weiss shook his head. "No – or at least, not yet. We're giving her the triple cocktail to prevent that from happening. Sipho has HIV, though. He was born with it."

"And Nomzamo wasn't?"

"Their mother contracted AIDS in the years between their births. Nomzamo is seventeen; Sipho is just turned twelve. She died when Sipho was two."

"She lived a long time," Cameron murmured.

"She was a fighter," Weiss confirmed.

Cameron smiled sadly. "Sipho told me he wants to be a doctor so he can find a cure for AIDS."

Weiss sighed. "It's always hard to see kids with HIV have the biggest dreams."

She nodded. "It just…it doesn't seem fair. He has the determination. He could – he might be able to find the cure, if he just had the chance…" She felt tears springing to her eyes and hastily turned away from him.

"Come here," Weiss said. He wrapped his arms around her and folded her into his chest. "You and I both know determination isn't enough. They've been working on a cure for AIDS for a long time now and they still haven't found it." Cameron closed her eyes. She knew that was true. But it still didn't seem right that a boy so young could be robbed the chance to find it.

"I know," she whispered. "But it's such a wonderful dream."

Weiss pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. "It's not just the dream that's wonderful," he murmured into her hair. "It's that he's the one dreaming it."

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize if this chapter feels more transitional. It's very important for the story, though. I have one more chapter to post before turning back to Cetera Desunt. You'll see why next chapter there will be a short pause...think of it as a midseason hiatus. Until then, I hope you enjoyed and that you leave me a review!


	6. Silence

**Disclaimer:** Oh, look! I still own nothing.

**A/N:**Thanks for all the reviews from last time. As many of you know, I reply to all reviews I get that I can - in other words, I can't reply if you review anonymously. I appreciate all my reviewers and don't have a problem with anonymous reviews (hence why that function is enabled), butI do miss the opportunity to reply in a few cases. Ellie, Vicodin Pill, thanks for your reviews; and ts, thank you for your review and questions. This story is going to be Hameron; for the rest of you wondering if I've lost my mind because Cameron and Weiss are an item, rest assured I haven't. And you will see House next chapter, so be excited! I had to get him to South Africa in a way that would make sense, and I think even the one I've chosen is a bit deus ex machina. ts, in regard to your second point, I can promise you Cameron will **not** be raped in this stoy. I agree that it would not fit and thank you for your concern.

**A/N:** Melissa, I've kept you up past your bedtime again. I know that you need to get some rest, so go to bed soon, young lady! Thanks for being an uber-picky beta even though you're exhausted. And just remember, you didn't want to know.

**For Rizza and Ramona.**

* * *

It was another one of those days. Too many patients, not enough doctors, and never sufficient time. Weiss had left early that morning for Cape Town for a conference, which meant she would have to take a break from Afrikaans lessons for a few days. She had now had two weeks worth of lessons, and, brief though some of them had been, she felt confident her Afrikaans was at least improving a little.

"Here, Dr. Cameron," Mary said tiredly, handing her another chart. Cameron accepted it quickly. "Just finish up this one and then you can take a break. I need you to come with me to pick up medicine – the new shipment of TB antibiotics just arrived."

Cameron frowned. "But what about the clinic? We're short-staffed enough as it is."

"I know," said Mary, "but they like to have a doctor sign off on the order. Aimee should be back by the time we leave."

"Okay," she said, dropping her gaze to the chart. Aimee was one of the other doctors who was more than capable of handling the clinic alone for awhile. She felt someone tap her shoulder as Mary walked away.

"Can I help you with this one?"

She turned around to find Sipho standing behind her. "Hey, Sipho," she greeted him. "Where is Nomzamo?"

"She's in there," he said, pointing to where Cameron knew the counseling offices to be. "Sorry I'm late. The nurse today didn't want me to leave the waiting room. She said I would just get in the way. I tried telling her I could help you, and that I was going to be a doctor, too, someday, and needed the practice, but I don't think she believed me. I snuck away when she wasn't looking."

Cameron choked back a laugh. "Well, I'm glad you're here," she told him, "but you shouldn't have disobeyed her."

Sipho grinned cheekily. "What's the point of rules if you can't break them?"

This time, Cameron couldn't help but laugh. Beckoning to him over her shoulder, she led the way to the next patient. She looked at the name on the chart: Abeba. She hoped it was pronounced phonetically.

"Abeba, I'm Dr. Cameron," she said as she walked up to the patient sitting cross-legged on the bed. Abeba looked to be about Nomzamo's age, but with long hair that fell past her waist. "What can I do for you?"

"_Ek praat nie engels nie_."

Cameron's heart skipped a beat, but this time, she recovered quickly. "_My Afrikaans is sleg,_" she told her. "_Ek is jammer. My naam is Allison Cameron. Ek werk soos 'n dokter._" The level of her language skills was almost laughable. "_Ek kom van die VSA."_ _I am from the United States… _She could have been at another lesson with Weiss for how basic her sentences were. She spoke slowly and carefully, making sure she pronounced all the words as clearly and accurately as possible. She could tell Abeba understood her from the way she listened intently, nodding occasionally, never taking her eyes off her. Cameron was just glad she hadn't scared another patient to the point of tears.

"_Ek sal vind iemand te vertaal_." She could almost hear Weiss in her head, repeating the directions to her. _Introduce yourself. Tell the patient your name, that you're a doctor, and where you're from. Then say you're going to find a translator and turn to leave._ She was just about to walk away when a voice stopped her.

"Wait." This time it was Sipho who had spoken. "_Ek praat Afrikaans_," he said proudly. "Do you want me to translate for you?"

"I…" Cameron's voice trailed off as she looked around for Mary or one of the other nurses who spoke Afrikaans. Not surprisingly, she didn't find any. She was grateful for Sipho's offer, but hesitant to accept it because letting him translate for a patient would allow him to get closer to patient care than he had even been. And what if he made a mistake?

"She says she was raped by her father," Sipho announced. Cameron whipped around. She had been so lost in thought, she hadn't even heard Sipho talking to the patient in Afrikaans behind her back. "She wants to know if there is anything you can do," he continued. He was looking intently at Abeba and hadn't seemed to notice that Cameron hadn't been paying much attention. "She says he has AIDS."

"She…what?" Cameron frowned. "Sipho, I really appreciate your help, but I'm not sure…"

"You're not sure you can trust me to translate?" Once again, she was thrown by his candidness. He took advantage of her silence to keep talking. "Afrikaans is my first language; English is my second. I speak Afrikaans at home with Nomzamo. She is not as good at English as I am. I learned English in school. So did she, but I tried harder. English is the language of medicine; I had to learn it." He looked at her earnestly. "_Laat my asseblief u help_. Please let me help you."

Abeba was looking at her expectantly. Cameron hesitated and then her expression cleared; if Sipho was a native speaker, he would be able to translate accurately. She knew the clinic was too busy for her to get anyone else to help her, and if Sipho really wanted the job, he was bound to do it well.

"Okay," she relented. "Tell her we can give her medicine to fight against HIV. I'll go get it now."

She heard Sipho repeat what she had said to Abeba in Afrikaans as she walked away. She retrieved the medicine quickly and was walking back when she was stopped by Mary.

"Are you ready?" Mary asked. "Aimee's back; we should leave soon."

"Almost," Cameron responded, holding up the pills. "Her father has AIDS; he's the one who raped her."

Mary nodded. "I'll wait for you outside."

Cameron returned to Abeba and Sipho and handed the pills to the girl. "Tell her these are to prevent HIV," she instructed Sipho.

He repeated the directions to Abeba and she smiled. "_Dankie."_

Cameron smiled back. _Thank you_. "_Nie te dankie,_" she said kindly as she gestured to Sipho. He slid off the bed and walked over to her.

"I have to go now," she told him. "We're picking up the latest shipment of medicine for TB. Aimee is back, though. You could ask her if she'd mind having you follow her around."

"Can I stay with Abeba?" Sipho inquired. "Nomzamo's appointment will be over soon and I think Abeba likes me."

Cameron smiled. "Of course. Thanks for all your help. I'll see you next week."

"Bye, Allison!" he called as he turned back to Abeba. Cameron caught a glimpse of the delight on Abeba's face as she turned away. She was glad she had been able to make at least one rape victim smile again today. She walked quickly out of the clinic to where Mary was waiting for her outside. Once Cameron had shut the door behind her, they were off. Mary had taken off at a fast pace and Cameron walked briskly to keep up.

"We're walking?" she asked, surprised.

Mary nodded. "It's not far; the landing site is less than a mile away. It's not worth the gas."

"Landing site?" Cameron repeated, frowning.

"Landing site for the helicopter."

At the quick pace, they were able to reach the landing site within fifteen minutes. A brightly painted helicopter waited for them on the helipad.

"Hey, Mary!" one of the crewmen called as she approached. He walked toward them with a large crate in his arms.

"Kevin," she said stiffly as he drew near. "This is Dr. Cameron," she said, gesturing to Cameron. Kevin shifted the crate awkwardly so he could shake her hand. "She's going to sign off on the medicine for us."

Kevin handed the crate to Mary and slid the clipboard off the top of it. He handed the clipboard and a pen from his pocket to Cameron. "Just sign on the dotted line," he told her. She obliged and he took the clipboard back with a wide grin. "Thanks, guys. See you in a month."

"See you, Kevin," Mary said as she turned to leave. Cameron smiled at him before turning back.

"That was quick," she remarked.

Mary nodded. "It's always better to be quick with Kevin. I don't like spending more time with him than I have to."

"Why?" She had found Kevin pleasant enough in their brief meeting.

"Let's just say delivering medicine wasn't the only thing Kevin was quick at."

"Ah…" A sudden noise in the bushes caused her to freeze. She held out her arm to stop Mary, too. She waited with bated breath for a few moments, and then whispered, "Did you hear anything?"

Mary frowned. "No…why?"

"I thought I did." Cameron listened intently, but she couldn't hear any more leaves rustling. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, let's just go."

They hadn't taken more than two steps before they stopped again. This time it was Mary who threw her arm out. "Did you just…?"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the sound of gunfire. Cameron screamed at the nurse to get down as she dove to the ground with her hands over her head. There were more shots, footsteps, and victorious yells.

And then there was silence.

* * *

**A/N:** Ooooh cliffie, sorry about that one! The next chapter will not be up for a bit. I want to continue with Cetera Desunt now, and this feels like a good stopping place (though if you try hard, you may convince my muse otherwise). Thanks for reading; I'd love to know what you think!


	7. Unforeseen

**Disclaimer_:_** They aren't mine.

**A/N:** I haven't finished Cetera Desunt, but my muse just wouldn't let me abandon this story. So, here's the next chapter. Thanks to those of you that reviewed last time. The reviews really make my day. So please review this chapter; your reviews will be like chicken noodle soup for my swine flu/regular flu/bad cold/strep throat/other self.

**A/N:** Melissa, thanks for beta reading. I hope you enjoyed your present for beating Tech!

* * *

The conference was boring as hell.

The air-conditioning must have been weak, because he was sweating, despite having already taken off his jacket. It was not very exciting to listen to people ramble on about their work. He had to wonder again why he'd even bothered coming.

Oh, wait. Because _she_ had wanted – ordered – him to.

He sighed and rested his head on his hand, failing to stifle a yawn as the presenter moved from one PowerPoint slide to the next. What did he _care_ about the impact of malaria in some medically-backwards African country? This was such a waste of time. He hoped he'd be able to skip out early before having to give his own presentation.

But he knew she wouldn't like that at all, not after how she bitched at him to go in the first place.

"_But it's in Cape Town! Do you know how far away that is?"_

"_Does it look like I care? You're going, and that's final!"_

Okay, so she hadn't been quite that harsh. But that's how he liked to remember it. She was much more interesting when she was feisty and bossing him around…

A cell phone ring tone jerked him from his stupor. He smirked as a doctor with sandy-brown hair sitting a few places down from him at the conference table started and quickly stifled the ring tone, slight color rising in his cheeks from embarrassment. The presenter (_Double D,_ he reminded himself) shot him a look of disapproval, but continued droning on with her report. The incident was so short, it was barely even worth noticing.

"Are there any questions?" Double D asked, ten merciless minutes later.

He groaned when one of the other doctors raised her hand. He just wanted to leave for lunch. The hand raisee was a female doctor to his left who asked some idiotic question about Double D's method of collection and interpretation of statistical data. Double D then began a long-winded about her methods and how they had insured a lack of bias and were fully accurate and representative of the population. He groaned again; this was never going to be over.

He couldn't help but notice that the doctor with sandy-brown hair looked just as eager to leave the conference as he was. Nor could he help but notice the fidgety doctor looked a lot like Jason Morgan from _General Hospital, _but he attributed that observation to boredom. While the other doctors around them were paying close attention and jotting notes down onto their legal pads in illegible doctor chicken scratch, Jason was sitting on the edge of his chair with his hands positioned on the table, clearly ready to push back and flee the room as soon as the presentation was over. Jason kept checking his watch and darting his eyes nervously to the pocket where he had restored his cell phone. Clearly something about that call had gotten his attention. He made a mental note to follow Jason out of the conference room.

Double D coughed and looked at the clock. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I think we've run out of time. If anyone has more questions, please find me during the lunch hour." He could tell some of the other male doctors were more than ready to take her up on this offer.

Jason immediately pushed back from the conference table and headed toward the exit. Without hesitation, he grabbed his cane and followed Jason out the door. Jason was heading for one of the corners, his cell phone already in hand. He watched the other doctor frown at the number of the call.

He soon reached where Jason was standing, but hung back slightly. Jason didn't even notice him, as he began to speak into the receiver. "What happened?" Jason asked urgently. At whatever response he received, Jason eyes widened. "When?"

"What do you mean they were _shot_? Did they have the medicine with them?" More worry-lines appeared. "Who died?" he asked in a shaky voice. "What do you mean you don't know which one died?" Almost hysterical now.

"Mary Holden and Allison Cameron!"

House's head snapped up. _What?_ Had he heard Jason correctly? Didn't he just say – but he couldn't have. Cameron wasn't here, in Africa. She was working for Yule, in Philadelphia, safely back in the United States….This was clearly another Allison Cameron…

"Hair color? Brown hair, both of them."

_A lot of people have brown hair…_

"You know what?" Jason was shouting now. "I'll just have to come back and see for myself, then, won't I? You are clearly no help. I expected better," he finished and snapped the phone shut. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.

House remained rooted to his spot. What were the chances that…But no, it couldn't be her…could it? And what if she was the one who…?

He had to find out. And there was only one way…

"Excuse me," he said in a quiet voice, approaching Jason. "Are you all right?"

Jason looked up. His eyes were wet with tears. "I – I'm sorry," he said, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I just received a phone call – bad news…"

"Oh," said House, "what happened?"

"It's – ah – it's my girlfriend," Jason answered. "She and another member of the clinic I work at were returning from retrieving medicine and it appears someone shot at them. I was just talking to the police…they said one of the women died, but they don't know which one…They just know she has brown hair, but they both do…"

"I'm so sorry," House said. "How far away is the clinic?"

"Not far, thankfully," he replied. "It's the Simelela Clinic in Khayelitsha." He sighed heavily. "I need to leave…I have to find out who died. And what happened to the one who didn't – the police don't seem to know that either."

"Do you want someone to come with you?" House asked. "Moral support, you know?"

Jason considered him. "If you don't mind missing the conference…"

House scoffed. "Oh, that's no problem. I'm only here because my boss wouldn't take no for an answer…It's fine if I have to leave early."

Jason frowned. "You haven't done your presentation yet."

"Neither have you."

"Touché," Jason murmured. He seemed to consider this word for a moment before sticking out his hand and saying, "Danny Weiss."

"Greg House," he said, shaking Weiss' hand. _Damn, the guy had a real name. _"Does this mean I'm in?"

Weiss nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

She was jolted awake suddenly by the shooting pain in her arm. Wincing, she sat up in the bed – a hospital bed? She tried to remember what had happened. They had been walking back with the medicine, and then they'd heard the shots, and then…

She looked down at her arm. Her wrist was bound tightly in an Ace bandage. She supposed she must have hurt it when she'd fallen…or had she dived?

"Ah, you're awake," the doctor said, hurrying over. He pointed to her wrist. "Nasty sprain there. Looks like you fell on it pretty hard. It's going to be sore for awhile as it heals." He made a note on her chart. "Can I get you anything?"

"More painkillers?" she asked hopefully.

The doctor nodded. "I'll get some right away." He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Wait…" He turned around and looked at her. "Do you know what happened to…?"

"She died," the doctor said softly. "She had lost too much blood. I'm sorry…there was just nothing more we could do."

Tears filled her eyes as the doctor left for the medicine. She couldn't believe someone had been murdered for the antibiotics…And after all they had been through together…And it could have just as easily been her. And, oh God –

What was Weiss going to say?

* * *

**A/N:** Dun dun dun. Next chapter to be posted soon!


	8. Deceit

**A/N:** Nothing is mine.

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to the lovely reviewers that make this story so much fun to write. You're in for a double treat tonight!

**A/N: **Le third, in which I thank Melissa for being a balla.

* * *

Weiss had been annoyingly quiet on the ride from Cape Town to the Simelela Clinic in Khayelitsha. House could barely get more than three words out of him at a time. The psychiatrist – for House had at least learned that much – was more content to stare out the window at the passing scenery. He hated psychiatrists, he reflected bitterly. They were paid too much to do too little diagnostic work. It was a money-making specialty, not an important one, like nephrology or infectious diseases or…_immunology_…

He drummed his fingers on his cane impatiently. He didn't want to sit in silence. He wanted to know why the hell Cameron was in South Africa. A lot of women had brown hair, but not many had parents dumb enough to give their child two first names. _Stupid parents,_ he thought angrily. _Stupid parents who gave their kid a stupid name and raised a stupid kid stupid enough to get herself killed in Africa…_Well, she's not dead yet, he reminded himself.

He groaned. The boredom was really starting to sink in. Like beer and liquor, boredom and anxiety were not a good mix. He wondered vaguely which woman was Weiss' girlfriend. Then he kicked himself for caring. All the same, he assured himself it was Mary; he refused to believe Cameron would sink so low. Besides, at most she'd only known the man for a month, and he wasn't damaged, unless House's suspicions about what was between Weiss' legs were correct. But even then, Cameron wouldn't care about such matters, not that she'd even know, of course…

_He's definitely dating Mary._

He cleared his throat to try again. "So…have you been here long?" he asked with a brave stab at a conversational tone.

Weiss finally turned away from the window and looked at him with a pained expression. "It's been a few weeks this time, but it's not my first time here."

"Ah," said House. "So you have one of those 'saving the world' complexes, do you?"

Weiss just stared at him. "I guess you could call it that," he said slowly. "But you'd be surprised to know I'm not the only one."

"Yeah?" asked House in a tone of mild interest. "And just how many others share your worldview?"

He could tell Weiss was frustrated that House was ignoring his obvious want for self-pitying silence, but when the psychiatrist responded, it was with an unexpectedly even tone. "At least two more off the top of my head."

"Mary and Cameron?"

Weiss' eyes distinctly narrowed. "Why do you call her Cameron, but the other one Mary?"

"Obviously because one is named Cameron and the other is named Mary."

Weiss rolled his eyes. "No – I meant – why do you call one by her first name and the other by her last?"

_Shit._ "Oh, is Cameron not her first name?" House responded, trying to act surprised. "I'm sorry, I was just confused. Didn't realize she had two first names."

Weiss didn't smile. "I've never met anyone whose first name was Cameron."

"Ah," House responded. "Well I've met several. Maybe you're not as worldly as you thought."

Weiss didn't respond. House sighed, this time out of impatience more than anything. He just wanted to get to the clinic and reassure himself that Cameron wasn't dead. Or, that she wasn't in Africa, but he knew the chance of that being true was looking slim.

"So, Mary and…_Allison_, then. How did you meet them?"

"Mary's been with MSF for awhile," Weiss answered, "but this is the first time I've worked with her personally. She came to Simelela a few months ago. Allison is an immunologist from America who…." House watched as realization dawned upon Weiss' face. The psychiatrist closed his mouth and stared at House accusingly. After a few moments, he spoke again. "You tricked me," he said slowly.

House didn't respond. It was true, but how could Weiss have known that? Weiss took advantage of House's silence to keep talking.

"I can't believe I was so thoughtless," Weiss mused. "When you told me your name…how could I not have recalled…you – and Cameron – and…"

"Whenever you have the ability to form a coherent sentence...." House said testily.

Weiss swallowed and cleared his throat. "We've corresponded before, Dr. House. When I was looking for an immunologist to assist me with my work, I sent you a letter requesting information about Dr. Cameron. You must have received it, as you sent a reply."

House frowned. He could not remember ever receiving a letter from Weiss before, and he certainly wouldn't have responded if he'd had. He was surprised Weiss had received a response at all. Usually it was Cameron's job to reply to such trivial and annoying mail. Perhaps Chase or Foreman had taken on her role as secretary in her absence.

"I don't do mail," he answered truthfully. "Must have been one of my fellow-slaves. I, of course, don't mean to say that _I'm_ a fellow member of a group of slaves, but that my fellows are my slaves – in addition to being fellows. I just have a pile of recommendation letters for each fellow – I mean, slave – and then they change the name of the recipient whenever said letter has to be sent."

Weiss' eyes narrowed. "Right. Sounds like a really great system. All the same, the only reason you're here is because you think you're going to find your former fellow here, am I right?"

"If by 'here' you mean in the disease-riddled morgue, or in your disease-riddled hospital beds, then yes, I've considered that possibility."

"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we?" Weiss said with a weak attempt at sounding annoyed. "We're finally here."

He was right. House quickly opened the door and grabbed his cane. He didn't wait for Weiss to grab the bags, but instead headed toward the nearest building. He was almost to the door when he realized the building he was walking up to wasn't actually a hospital. Cursing, he turned around to see Weiss smirking at him, halfway to the building on the opposite side of the street. "Wrong one, House."

House hurried over toward the building Weiss was approaching. He entered through the door of the hospital just a few moments after Weiss. Weiss was waiting for him inside. He tossed House his bag. "I'm not your fellow or your slave," he said.

House caught the bag and then trudged after Weiss into the hospital. The interior was nice, actually not as nice as Princeton-Plainsboro, but certainly not disease-riddled. They didn't ask anyone for the room number, as Weiss seemed to know where he was going. He led House down the hall to an open room where there were a number of beds. In the one furthest from the door, there was a woman with long brown hair, and her wrist in a splint.

It was Cameron. House exhaled a sigh of relief. So she was alive. She was here, so she was still an idiot, and she had hurt her wrist, but she was alive. House turned to Weiss, curious to see how the psychiatrist would react to the news of his girlfriend's demise --

He did a double-take. For Weiss was no longer standing next to him; he was now at Cameron's bedside, and House had looked over just in time to see his former fellow return Weiss' kiss.

* * *

**A/N:** Now that Cetera Desunt is complete - tear! - I will be devoting more time to this story. I want to have two more chapters of this story posted before beginning my next piece, entitled One Second to Die. Please review and inspire my muse to meet her goal!


	9. Pain

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**A/N:** I am so sorry about the delay in getting this chapter posted. There really is no excuse, so I won't try to make one. My muse informs me she enjoyed her vacation. The good news is that chapter 10 has been written and will be posted within a week. With the start of a new semester, Melissa and I are very busy. I could post the unbeta'd versions of chapters as soon as I finish them, but, trust me, you wouldn't want to read them. Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 8!

**A/N:** Thanks to Pandorama and Melissa for beta'ing. Pandorama, tell the fluffulpuffball that I say hi. Melissa, don't die from work.

* * *

It wasn't the first time she'd woken up screaming. She felt the sweat drenching her hair and neck as she pulled herself shakily into a sitting position. Breathing heavily, she stared at the dark wall and tried to clear her mind of the nightmare, but the images kept coming back: bullets racing toward her, Mary falling to the ground, her eyes wide and accusatory before they lost their light –

_Don't think about it_, Cameron steeled herself, but she couldn't help but rub her wrist. She was taking pain killers, but her wrist was still very painful and sore. She hadn't been able to work in the clinic since the atta – _incident_ – but she hoped to be back soon. She didn't like sitting around doing nothing, and she especially disliked sitting around doing nothing while House was still at the clinic.

It frustrated her to no end that he had been at the clinic in the first place, but it was downright intolerable that he still hadn't left. From what Weiss had told her, House had been sent to the same conference in Cape Town, and he'd insisted on coming back to the clinic after Weiss had heard about the…_incident_. A small smile tugged at her lips as she recounted Weiss telling her about how House had gone ballistic after he'd seen them kissing. That was typical House, being jealous of whatever he couldn't have, no matter how much he hadn't wanted it when he could have had it…

"Got tired of counting gazelles?"

Her head bolted up from where it had been resting on her knees. She couldn't see the face of who had spoken, but the shadow of a cane on the wall told her it must have been House. Silently cursing her luck, she didn't respond, but waited for him to step closer to the bed.

He did, but not without saying something else. "Where's Danny Boy tonight?"

"Night shift," she answered. She sighed. "What are you doing here, House?"

"I heard you screaming. It didn't sound like the fun kind."

She felt a mix of frustration and embarrassment. Couldn't she at least have nightmares in peace? Shame entered the mix. She didn't like the thought of him listening to her, worrying about her well-being –

Oh, wait. He wasn't worried. He was just interested.

He had reached the bed by now. Without waiting for her approval or an invitation, he sat down. She continued to stare at her knees, considering her wrist, tightly wrapped in an ACE bandage. She wished it would stop aching.

"Take this," he said quietly. She looked up, confused.

"What?"

He was offering her his bottle of Vicodin. Her eyes moved from the bottle to his outstretched palm, where the white pill lay. She shook her head. "I've already had some Motrin."

"Are you trying to get rid of menstrual cramps, or do you actually have a sprained wrist?" he scoffed. "Besides, they never tell you how much you're really supposed to take." She continued to shake her head, causing him to sigh in exasperation. "Honestly, Cameron, do you get off on masochism?"

"I've already had 600."

"That's nothing compared to this stuff." She just looked at him. "Here," he said, reaching over to retrieve the water bottle on her nightstand for her. He handed it to her. "Now open up the tunnel, here comes the train!"

She turned away from him as he tried to push the pill into her mouth. "No, House!" she said firmly. "I don't need more, especially not of this. If you're so generous with your pills, give them to someone in the clinic tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes. "See, that's the great thing about being from the first world. We don't have to worry our pretty heads with this 'moderation' thing. So stop whining already and - say it with me - supersize me, captain!" He grabbed her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain. He took advantage of her open mouth to place the pill onto her tongue. While her eyes watered, he tilted her head back, poured some water into her mouth, brought her head level again, and clamped his hand over her lips. She had no choice but to swallow.

He released her as soon as she had. Gasping, she pulled her wrist protectively toward her chest with her good hand. "Don't ever do that again," she snapped.

He just shrugged. "No happy, no meal, no toy."

"I don't want a toy!" she snapped. "I just want you to leave."

"Sorry, can't do that," he said. "Saturday night stay-over – you know how the airlines love to price-discriminate. You're stuck with me for another two days. Cuddy was trying to be frugal."

She groaned in frustration. "At least leave the room," she told him. "I'm tired."

"Yes, running away does tend to tire one out."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you. Running away from Princeton. And then you got bored at your job in Philly, and ran away to Africa. You know, with all that running, it's no wonder you fell and broke your wrist."

She looked at him angrily. "I didn't break my wrist, I sprained it. And I never ran away," she told him sharply. "I was offered a job by Weiss to come to Khayelitsha for two months. I talked to Yule and he told me I could go. I'm not running anywhere; I'm going back to Yule in a month."

"You still ran away. You ran away from Princeton."

"I left my job for something better. I hardly call that running away." She felt her frustration building. She really was tired, and even with the Vicodin, her wrist was still very painful. Holding it gingerly, she turned away from House again.

Cameron felt her head being turned back toward House almost immediately. Before she could open her mouth to reprimand, he brought his lips firmly to hers.

She pulled back instantly. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled. "Get away from me!"

He just raised his eyebrows at her. "You said you didn't want a toy. I thought I'd give you a prize instead."

She pointed to the door. "Leave."

"Oh, grow up, Cameron. It's just a little smooch. Besides, just because you're on a diet, doesn't mean you can't look at the menu. And I happen to be very appetizing. You should try my secret sauce."

"Get the hell out of my room."

House didn't even move. "I don't understand you. You know that's what you wanted, and you left because I wouldn't give it to you. Now I'm giving it to you. You shouldn't be banishing me from the room; you should be jumping up and down skipping in a circle to 'Zipadee-doo-dah.'"

She was shaking again, but this time with anger. "I could never love a bastard like you."

"At least I'm not a eunuch…unlike _some people_."

"Right," she said tonelessly.

"No, I'm serious," he insisted. "Have you seen what's between ol' Danny Boy's legs? No way he's got anything worthwhile down there."

This time she felt her anger boiling over. Without stopping to think of the consequences, she raised her good hand and slapped House across the face.

He didn't recoil, but he didn't hit back either. He just stared at her, slightly dumbfounded, barely hurt, but mostly surprised. His eyes widened, but otherwise, there was no indication he had been slapped at all. Without taking his eyes off hers, he slowly slid to the edge of the bed, and stood up. Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review! I'll be back with another chapter within a week.


	10. Charisma

**Disclaimer:** Nada es mio.

**A/N:** I haven't written chapter 11 yet, though my muse has a plan, but I thought I'd post 10 anyway. This is my favorite chapter, I think...well, one of my favorites anyway. I hope you enjoy it, too, because I had so much fun writing the dialogue. I advise you to not sit around anyone who will think you're weird if you suddenly burst out laughing (read: don't read this in a library). Melissa practically embarrassed herself while beta'ing.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed last time. This chapter is for you.

**A/N:** HAZELNUT WHAT UP. Thanks to the hazelnut coffee that kept Melissa awake awhile beta reading. (Oh, and thanks to Melissa, too, I suppose...)

* * *

Cameron groaned and checked her watch again. It had only been twelve minutes since the last time she'd looked at it, but she felt like it had been an hour. She rubbed her eyes with her good hand and sank down onto a chair in the break room. She wished she had managed to get more sleep the night before.

Even after House had left, she hadn't been able to fall asleep. She had lain in bed for hours, unable to fall asleep even though the pain in her wrist had been dulled by the extra Vicodin. The guilt she felt over taking the extra pill hadn't helped, and she wished she could believe her insomnia was related only to guilt. But she knew that wasn't true. She knew the real reason she hadn't fallen asleep again: she had been a coward and hadn't let herself. She hadn't wanted the nightmares to return.

There was a sharp intake of breath and then she heard a worried voice. "What did you do to your wrist?"

Cameron looked up to see Sipho, his wide eyes full of concern, staring at her. "Oh, hi, Sipho," she said tiredly. "I just…I fell."

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. Gently placing his hand on her shoulder, he said, in a tone of utmost gravity, "It's okay, you know. You can tell me. Is it Danny? Has he been hurting you?"

She was momentarily stunned by Sipho's serious demeanor, and then she began to laugh. "No – Sipho, of course not!"

He laughed, too, but continued softly, "There is something, though, right, Allison?" She didn't answer, and he kept going. "I know there is. There's a new doctor with a cane walking around, yelling orders at the nurses. No one seems to want him here, but no one is telling him to leave, either. And no one wants to tell me where Mary is."

Cameron froze. She didn't want to talk about Mary, least of all with Sipho. He kept one hand on her shoulder, but used the other to pick up her injured wrist gently. Trepidation filled her as he placed her wrist in his palm, but he didn't touch her further; instead, he examined her wrist and the ACE bandage closely using only his eyes.

"It's not broken," he said slowly. "If it were broken, you'd have a cast. But it looks pretty swollen…" His eyes trailed over to her other wrist. "It's definitely bigger than your right wrist. You say you fell, and maybe you did; you can sprain your wrist while falling. But…" He looked up into her eyes. She knew he wouldn't miss the dark circles. "…you're not sleeping," he whispered.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at his youthful intuition. "No, I'm not," she confirmed quietly.

Cameron could see the pity welling in his eyes. "Is it because something happened to Mary?" Unable to speak, Cameron just nodded. Sipho nodded solemnly back, and then met her gaze. "Will you tell me what happened?" he asked softly. "It's okay if you – if you don't want to, or – can't. But if you could…I really want to know. I can guess…" His voice trailed off as his eyes took in the bags beneath hers again. "I trust you, Allison; I know you wouldn't lie to me. And I know Mary was your friend. So I'm asking you, please, to tell me what happened to her." He paused before adding, "She was my friend, too."

She sighed. It still amazed her that, despite being only twelve years old, Sipho had such a way with words. He was very convincing, very sincere, very easy to trust. She opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered she was, essentially, talking to a child. Sipho might have been mature for his age and a gifted speaker, but she was still about to tell him that his friend had been shot to death over a crate of medicine. If she were working for House…_But you're not working for House anymore_, a voice in her head interjected. Sipho's asking you like a man, so you should talk to him like the man he is.

"Allison?"

She swallowed and reached out her good hand to grasp Sipho's free one. She looked him straight in the eye, and then began quietly, "I'm sorry, Sipho, for not telling you the whole story before. I injured my wrist when I hit the ground…but I didn't fall. I dove to the ground."

"Why?" Sipho's whisper could barely be heard.

"Mary and I had gone to get the latest shipment of TB medicine…This was right after your last visit to the clinic. We got the medicine all right, but on the way back, we were attacked." Sipho gasped, but she ignored him, and continued, "I don't know who did it. I just heard the gunshots and yelled at Mary to get down. And she…" Cameron swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat wouldn't go away. Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head to clear them, but they wouldn't go away. She blinked and they began sliding down her cheeks.

"And she didn't make it," Sipho finished quietly. He looked up at Cameron. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," he said. "That must have been really scary." His tone was even, but she could tell he was fighting to keep it steady. "You were very brave – you are very brave, I mean." He gently reached up and brushed a tear away from her cheek and then kissed the now-dry spot.

"How touching."

Cameron and Sipho both jumped. She hadn't realized they were being watched, and she groaned when she saw who had been watching them. House was standing about five feet from them, leaning against the wall and drumming his fingers on the top of his cane.

Sipho gave Cameron a meaningful look that clearly said, _That's him._ Cameron sighed. "House, this is Sipho," she said wearily. "Sipho, this is Dr. House. He was my boss before I came to work here."

House's eyes narrowed. "You let a five-year-old's lips get that close to yours, but you won't let mine near you? Never took you for a cougar. Look out, kiddies! Dr. Cameron is on the prowl."

Sipho's eyes widened. "I _didn't_ kiss her," he said defensively. "Not that way, anyway. And I'm not five – I'm _twelve_."

"No one asked your opinion, Simba."

"It's _Sipho,_" he corrected indignantly.

"Don't you think I know that?" House rolled his eyes. "I called you Simba because I was making an allusion. That's a fancy word we first-worlders use to make references intended to be misunderstood by uneducated third-worlders."

"House," said Cameron sharply. "Shut up." Turning to Sipho, she said, "Just ignore him. It's easier that way."

But Sipho wasn't so easily deterred. "I _know_ what an allusion is, and I'm _not_ uneducated. I have been studying hard and practicing my English every day so I can become a doctor someday. I suppose that means I want to be just like you. But I can only hope I never turn out to be as much of an _ass_."

His retort seemed to have taken House aback, for he didn't say anything as Sipho walked up to Cameron and wrapped his arms around her. "I should go now," he said, loud enough for House to hear him. More quietly, he said, "I will be back soon. Nomzamo's appointments are going to be happening more frequently."

She hugged him back, and murmured, "I'm sorry about House."

Sipho shook his head, and she was surprised to see he was smiling. "Don't worry. I'm glad for any chance to get one-up on an American doctor. And when I find the cure for AIDS, that'll show them all." He pulled away from her, gave a small wave to House, and then turned in the opposite direction and walked back to the busy clinic.

"You know that's never going to happen, right?" House muttered once Sipho was gone.

"What's not?" Cameron asked absently.

"Doogie Howser finding a cure for AIDS." Cameron opened her mouth to retort, but House cut her off. "Not because he's not smart enough, even though I doubt that he is. He's just not going to live that long."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Cameron irritably.

"Have you really been out of differential this long?" House scoffed. Cameron ignored the jibe, waiting for him to continue. "It's obvious. Your kid's going to die of TB before you've even packed your bags to return to the States."

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**A/N:** Dun dun dun...Please review!


	11. Overheard

**Disclaimer:** I, again, own nothing.

**A/N:** Thanks to all the wonderful people I like to call reviewers. I am really glad to hear all of you are enjoying the story, and even more to hear how many of you love Sipho. Not that any of you are really wondering where Weiss is, but you won't see him again until next chapter. So enjoy the last moments of the Hameron interaction (not so much Hameron love - YET!) and please review.

**A/N:** Brains and porcupines, Melissa. Brains and porcupines. IT WAS SO CUTE!

* * *

Cameron was shaken awake after another restless night's sleep and an even more restless midday nap in the break room. She blinked confusedly several times and shook her head to clear it. She groaned when she saw who had woken her this time.

"House," she groaned. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Believe me, Cameron," he began, without missing a beat. "No matter how much more beauty sleep you get, it's not going to help. You'll still look dreadful."

"Thanks," she replied sarcastically. She knew he was right, though. Her continued insomnia had done nothing to improve the circles under her eyes. She had tied her hair back in a loose ponytail that morning, but she could feel the strands coming out on the side she had slept on. Cameron reached up and took out the hair tie, letting her messy hair down onto her shoulders.

"That's marginally better," House said, reaching up to brush some of the hair from her face.

She grabbed his wrist with her good hand. "Don't touch me," she hissed. She hadn't forgotten the incident with the Vicodin pill only a few nights ago.

He pulled back. "Someone's a prickly porcupine today."

Cameron sighed. "What do you want, House? I have to get back to work." She made to stand up.

"I'm leaving."

She stopped, halfway between standing and sitting, and then slowly sat back down. "Really?"

She knew he wouldn't miss the skepticism, but she wondered if he had also heard the surprise. "Really, really," he said seriously. "Cross my heart and hope to die, cowgirl."

Cameron rolled her eyes as she began combing through her hair with her fingers. "When do you leave?"

He pretended to look hurt. "You want to get rid of me that quickly? I know you don't like me hearing when you come, but I must say, it really helps a man get off."

"House!" she exclaimed, scandalized. She felt a heavy blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Oh, don't look so embarrassed," he scoffed. "It's a compliment. I like pretending it's me who's getting your rocks off or whatever those preppy Brits say nowadays."

"Daniel isn't British," she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows. "It's Daniel now? What happened to Danny? Or Dan? Why so formal?" She didn't say anything. "Yes, I've noticed it, too," he said solemnly. "Your screams aren't nearly as loud as they used to be. Attraction not what it once was?"

"House," she hissed.

He held up his hands in defeat. "I'll stop and save some for later. I have to go anyway. Don't want to make Mommy mad before dinner. I really want my dessert tonight…maybe even seconds, if you know what I mean." He gave her a huge wink.

"Bye then," she said dismissively. She stood up from the chair and turned to leave.

"Come with me."

His voice made her turn around again. "What? Where?"

"I said, come with me." She narrowed her eyes. He was serious. "You know where."

"I can't," she answered shortly. "I promised I would stay for two months. I have another month to go."

He shrugged. "Skip town and get the hell out of Dodge." She just shook her head. "What are you going to do after the two months are up anyway? Leave? Stay and get fired from Yule's team?"

"I don't know," she replied. She felt a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. What _was_ she going to do once the two months were up? She hadn't thought about it, as she'd been too busy with the clinic and Mary and now House's appearance and Sipho…it seemed unreal that half her time had already passed.

"Well, let me tell you what to do then," House said. "Come back to Princeton with me. You can have your old job back. Or – better yet – you can have Chase's job _and_ Foreman's! It'll be the Cameron and House show. They can call it Hameronostics."

"Right," she said softly. "My answer is still no."

"What do you want?"

She sighed. "I want you to leave."

"Not without you."

"Stop being a child."

"Stop being an idiot."

She groaned. "This isn't a game to me, House. I can't just pack up and leave. I don't want to, anyway. I don't want to work for you anymore. After all, we both know you only hired me to be your furniture."

"You're right!" he exclaimed. "Why don't you be my couch, and I'll just take off my clothes and then we can--"

"House!" she yelled. "This is why I don't want to work for you. You don't respect me, as a person or as a doctor! I have finally found that respect here. That's why I don't want to leave. Because I've found a place where my work is valuable and I, personally, am considered valuable by my co-workers. Because I've finally found a place where I care so much about the patients it hurts and when I can make them better I--"

"That's why you can't stay," he interrupted her. "You can't stay because sooner or later one of them, perhaps the one whose name so resembles a disease I'd very much like to give you one day, if you know what I mean, is going to die. And then you're going to be upset and pretty-boy Weiss is going to comfort you, except he'll do a piss poor job and then you'll have to come crying back to me in Princeton. So why don't we just cut to that part and spare you all the emotional drama in the middle?"

"My answer is still no."

He sighed. "Fine," he snapped. "Be an idiot. Stay here. Break your heart, get yourself killed. Just remember when you're dying of malaria or when someone you love is shot and killed again that you could have spared yourself the trouble and left with me when you had the chance." He picked up his travel bag and turned around. He had reached the door and opened it before he turned back to her and said quietly, "Don't you know I only want you to come back because I love you?"

She shook her head. "Don't you know you taught me well enough not to fall for any bullshit?"

He just stared at her. "Touché," he finally muttered as he slowly walked from the room without looking back.

Cameron watched him retreat without really seeing it happen. Her mind was on overdrive, trying to sort out what he had just told her. Had he really said that he loved her? Or had it just been a way to make her follow him back to Princeton?

"Why didn't you go with him?"

_Good question_, she answered herself. _Why the hell didn't I go with him?_

_Don't ask me._

That's when she realized the question hadn't been asked in her head. It had been voiced aloud, by someone else. She slowly turned around and found herself staring at Sipho. His eyes were wide, and she could tell from his face that he had heard entirely too much of her previous conversation.

"Sipho!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Where's Nomzamo?"

"Appointment," he answered nonchalantly. "But stop changing the subject. Why didn't you go with him?"

Cameron sighed. "I can't leave," she said, "I have another month on my contract. And even if I didn't, I don't want to leave; I love it here with you and the clinic and Danny…"

Sipho shook his head. "That's not important. He said that he loves you."

She laughed. "Believe me, he'll say anything to get me to go back. What he says means nothing."

"I think it does," Sipho said seriously.

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Why is that?"

He waited a moment before answering, but when he spoke, his tone was even and low. "It's the way he stares at you in the clinic. The way he watches you whenever he can, the way he sneaks glances at you when he thinks no one is looking or doesn't care who sees him. He would never show concern to you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. It's obvious to me that he cares a great deal--" Sipho broke off suddenly as he started coughing.

Cameron lunged forward. "Here, sit down," she said, offering him the chair she had been sitting in earlier. She guided him into it. She was relieved the coughing fit stopped almost as quickly as it had started.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "It's just dry in here, that's all."

"I'll get you some water," she said. She walked over to the counter and took one of the unopened bottles and brought it back to him. "Here, drink this," she instructed.

He did. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

"You're welcome," she said. Her hand itched toward her stethoscope. "Are you sure you're okay? I can listen to your lungs if you want to make sure."

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

Cameron bit her lip. "You will come back, won't you, if the cough gets worse?"

He smiled. "I'm here so often, I'm sure I will be back if the cough gets worse. And I promise you can listen to my lungs then, if it does. But not now; we're wasting time. Nomzamo will be almost done with her appointment, and I still haven't given you your present."

"You have a present for me?"

He nodded as he pulled a small package wrapped in a brown bag out of his pocket. "I made you this," he said, handing it over.

She took the package from him and slowly pulled back the wrappings. Inside was a hand-crafted object she recognized as a dream catcher. He had taken an old bracelet and used it as a hoop. The web was made with colorful yarn and the tassels were made of braided yarn with beads at the end. She had never had a dream catcher before, but she thought it was beautiful.

"I read about it in a book. It's called a dream catcher. It's what Americans use to catch bad dreams. I wanted to make you something to remind you of home," he said in a rush. "The book says Native Americans make them."

"Yes, they do," she told him. "It does remind me of home, and I think it's beautiful."

Sipho beamed. "There's a note on the back, too."

She turned the dream catcher over. The note was attached to the web and stunned her into silence.

_Nightmares, nightmares, go away._

_You are not welcome here to stay. _

_Don't you dare come back again._

_Leave alone my dear friend Allison._

"You don't like it?" Sipho asked, panic-stricken, misinterpreting her silence.

"No – no!" she exclaimed. "No, I love it. Thank you so much, Sipho. This gift is so thoughtful and sweet. I absolutely love it."

Sipho beamed again and threw his arms around her. She couldn't help but smile, too, though her smile faded slightly when she felt him start coughing again. As she led him back to the chair, insisted he sit down, and forced him to drink some more water, she couldn't help but wonder if every word of House's prediction was going to come true.

* * *

**A/N:** I will make an attempt to update soon. Muse, I see you. Don't you dare leave me!


	12. Dreamweaver

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** I'm really sorry that it has taken me so long to update. It's not because I didn't have the chapter written, because I've actually had this chapter written since March. I've just had a really bad two months. Long story short, I played with diagnostics and got burned by the result. I also had tendinitis for a month, so that severely limited my ability to write anything. Thanks to those of you that reviewed last time, even though by now you've forgotten what you said.

**A/N:** Thanks a million, Melissa. Insanity, ftw.

* * *

"What's that?"

Cameron turned around to see Weiss behind her. They were in Weiss' bedroom – the one they now shared. She was holding Sipho's dream catcher in her hand. She smiled and extended it out to him. "It's a dream catcher. See?"

"A dream catcher?" Weiss repeated, taking it from her. "I thought that was a Native American thing."

"It is," she said, nodding. "Sipho made it for me because he thought it would remind me of America."

"I hardly think you'd be one to run around half naked with a tomahawk," Weiss said.

Cameron returned his jest with a mischievous smile. "Is that because you'd rather see me completely naked?"

Weiss laughed and kissed her. "Of course." He pulled back and studied the dream catcher. His eye caught sight of the note on the back. He turned it over and read it aloud. "Nightmares, nightmares, go away. You are not welcome here to stay. Don't you dare come back again. Leave alone my dear friend Allison." He burst out laughing. "Ooh, it appears I have some competition!"

Cameron laughed. "Danny, he's twelve."

"Right, which is why at least I know he's not a serious contender. Unlike…others." Cameron looked up as his voice trailed off. Weiss was no longer smiling.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly. She kept her voice even, but inside her stomach was clenching. Why did everyone seem to think that House had a… a _thing_ for her? She silently mused that three months ago, this would have been most welcome, but then…_stop!_ Cameron insisted.

"House," began Weiss simply. "How long has he acted like that?"

Cameron was confused. "Acted like what, an ass? He's always been an ass, at least as long as I've known him. I mean, I'm sure he was nice…r…once, before he hurt his leg, but that doesn't mean--"

"No, that's not what I meant," Weiss interrupted. "How long has he acted like that around you? And by that I mean, how long has he looked at you like that?"

Cameron's mouth felt dry. "Looked at me like what?" she replied.

"Looked at you like he wanted to screw you."

Cameron laughed again. "He always looks like that," she answered without thinking. Weiss' eyes bulged and he looked appalled. Cameron realized her mistake quickly and added, "Not just around me. I mean around everyone. Well, I suppose only women. I'm not sure he really feels the same way about men."

"What's wrong with you?" he exclaimed exasperatedly.

Cameron narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me?"

"I mean exactly that – what's wrong with you? Why are you rambling?"

"I'm not rambling," she said, feeling familiar anger rising, though this time it was at someone other than House. She vaguely wondered if Weiss had ever made her angry before.

"Fine," Weiss conceded. "I don't want to argue with you, Allison. I just want to ask – make sure – that you – you've never loved him?" It ended up sounding more like a question than a statement, but Cameron understood the sentiment. Something nagging at her also warned her not to get annoyed with him because it was, after all, a legitimate concern.

She considered her answer for a few moments before slowly replying, "I…I learned a long time ago that feeling anything for House would be a bad idea." Okay, so it hadn't been _that_ long ago, but there was no need to worry him. Weiss didn't need to know she'd come to that realization barely two months ago.

Weiss sighed, but she could tell he also accepted her response. "Why were you talking to him earlier then?"

Cameron frowned. "How did you know I was talking to him?"

"I was watching Sipho," Weiss admitted.

Cameron's frown deepened. "Why?"

"I'm worried about him – about his cough, that is," he replied. Cameron felt the worry she herself felt over Sipho's cough rushing back; it must be more serious than it looked if Weiss, who had much more experience with coughs, especially of the – God forbid – TB nature, was also concerned. She opened her mouth to say that she, too, was worried, but Weiss pressed on. "That's not important now, though," he said in a way that made it clear he wouldn't entertain any discussion about the matter at the moment. "I saw House leave the clinic and he looked upset. What did you say to him?"

"Well, he asked me if I would go home to Princeton with him. And I told him no, because I still have about a month to complete here before I have to go back to boring Yule, and I plan on making the most of that time."

"You don't have to stay here if you'd rather be somewhere else."

"I know I don't have to," she said, smiling. "But I want to make the most of my time with you."

"No, that's not what I meant," Weiss said. "I meant, you don't have to go back to Yule. In fact, don't go back. Stay here with me."

Mental images filled her head of what life in Khayelitsha would be with Weiss. Waiting rooms overflowing with patients, staggering numbers of death, graphic images of rape, and nights spent with Weiss when they weren't too exhausted from the day to indulge each other. He would be there for her, she could see that, and she for him, but for how long? They'd barely even known each other a month. She opened her mouth to say the only words that were coming to her.

"I…don't know."

Weiss looked at her seriously. "Why not?"

Cameron struggled to translate her concerns into words. "I – I need a job. A real job. I can't do MSF forever."

"You don't have to," Weiss said. "You can just work at the clinic with me." Cameron started to protest, but Weiss continued, "I don't want to lose you, Allison. I love you, and I – I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Cameron gasped. "Danny…" she breathed. Words seemed to be failing her. The only word she could think of was no, but she didn't want to say it so bluntly. "Danny, it's been great, really, it has. But it's just too fast. You have to give me more time…"

"I'm not trying to pressure you…It's just that when you do what I do, you become used to losing people quickly. And I didn't want to lose you before I had the chance to tell you that." Cameron bit her lip, but to her surprise, he smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "I will – give you more time, that is. I don't expect you to say anything now. I just don't want to lose you to a donkey with a cane."

Cameron chuckled weakly. "You won't," she said. "He left."

"Good," Weiss replied, stepping closer to her. She allowed him to kiss her again. He deepened the kiss as he ran his hands down her arms. She hissed and drew back when he brushed against her wrist, pain shooting up her arm.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, I forgot." She nodded to show she had heard him. He touched her arm gently. "Can I see?" Cameron looked at him hesitantly, but Weiss added, "It's been a week. It should be looked at to make sure it's healing properly."

Cameron nodded; she knew he was right. "Okay," she said.

"Lie down," he instructed. "I'll go wash my hands." Cameron watched him leave and turned to lie down. As she moved toward the bed, her eye caught sight of the dream catcher, which Weiss must have placed on the bed while they had been talking. She gently picked it up and tied it tightly to the bed mast. Once it was securely in place, she lay down on the bed and began unwrapping the bandage around her wrist.

"Let me do that," Weiss said, as he came back in, his sleeves rolled back. She dropped her hand and Weiss sat down on the bed, slowly unraveling the rest of the bandage. Cameron winced when she saw her wrist. "It still looks very bruised," he said. _Stating the obvious_, Cameron added mentally. "And it's still swollen, but it looks like it's doing okay for how long it's been." Cameron just nodded. Weiss picked up the bandage and wrapped her wrist up again. "Here," he said, once he was done with the wrapping. He was holding out three pills and a bottle of water. She recognized two of them as ibuprofen.

"What's the other one?" she asked warily.

"Sleeping pill," he answered. He looked at her with soft, concerned eyes. "I know you haven't been sleeping well. I thought this might help."

Cameron took the pill. "Okay," she replied, a bit hesitant. "But you know I already have a cure for that." She gestured toward the dream catcher.

Weiss didn't laugh. "I know," he said quietly, "but just take this one, too. For me."

Cameron opened her mouth and swallowed all three pills with one gulp. She then lay back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. "Is this sleeping bill a rapid release, or am I really just that tired?"

Weiss joined her on the bed, drawing her close to him. "Maybe a bit of both," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

As Cameron closed her eyes, her thoughts drifted back to Sipho and his troublesome cough. She knew that he, Sipho, had told her not to worry, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was something more serious than he was letting on. And if she was starting to wonder, then worry wouldn't be far behind…

"Danny, what do you think is causing Sipho's cough?" she mumbled.

She must have fallen asleep before he had replied, because someone else answered, in a voice very much like House's, "You and I both know it's TB…"

* * *

**A/N:** You review, I update. Please? (:


	13. Fear

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nothing at all.

**A/N:** Oh look, an update! And it didn't take two months this time! Thanks for all the great reviews from last time; I'm glad you haven't completely given up on this story. Speaking of stories, I've started writing another one - but don't worry, this story will have priority until it's finished, which should be another 2-3 chapters depending on how things go. If you're interested in checking out the other story though, it's called **I Will Follow You Into the Dark**.

**A/N:** Melissa, what can I say? I'm amazed you're coherent after only four hours of Z's? I hope this chapter didn't cause more emotional heartache in the Grey's aftermath? I brain you?

* * *

"Nomzamo – Hey, Nomzamo!" Cameron ran to catch up with the teenager and the nurse leading her away. The nurse stopped and turned around as Cameron reached them. She looked at Nomzamo; the teenager looked terrible. Her eyes were red as though she hadn't slept in days. She swallowed hard and asked, "Where's Sipho?"

Nomzamo didn't answer. She didn't even blink. Cameron tried again. "Is he here?" Again, Nomzamo did not respond. "Nomzamo, is he here?" Cameron repeated, louder this time. Nomzamo stared at her for a long time before slowly shaking her head.

"Is he at home?" Cameron asked urgently. Nomzamo nodded. "Is he alone?" she continued. Cameron couldn't help but let some panic seep into her voice; if he was ill, the worst place he could be was home alone. To her surprise, Nomzamo shook her head. Cameron looked at the nurse. "Who would be with him? There aren't any other siblings, are there?"

The nurse – Cameron recognized her as Jenna – frowned. "No, not that I know of. I thought they were alone. Maybe it's a neighbor?"

Cameron nodded absently, her mind racing as she thought of Sipho and how bad his cough had gotten, not to mention House's nagging suspicion that it was TB. She made up her mind in an instant. "I'm going to check on him," she told the nurse.

Jenna nodded. "Do you know where they live?"

Cameron bit her lip and turned to Nomzamo. She bent her knees slightly so that she was eye level with the teenager. "Nomzamo," she said urgently, "this is really important. I am a doctor and I am trying to help your brother. I need you to tell me where you live – where you live and how I can get there." But Nomzamo only stared blankly at her. "You understand English, don't you?" she asked, more to herself than the girl. She knew Sipho's English was very good, but remembered what he had said about Nomzamo not being as skilled as he. "_Praat u Engels?"_ Cameron repeated the same question again in Afrikaans.

"I'll get a translator," Jenna said. She turned and left. Cameron watched her retreat down the hall and then looked back at Nomzamo.

"He's hurt."

Cameron's eyes widened. "Who? Sipho?"

"Yes," she said softly, her gaze directed at the ground. "He is very sick. Please," she caught Cameron's eye, "please, you must help him."

"I will," Cameron said, trying to keep her tone even, trying not to let the sister hear the panic she felt inside. "Just tell me where to go."

"We live very close," Nomzamo said. "That is why we can walk to the clinic. You must go down the main street and then go to the right. Keep going on that path. There will be many houses. It is the one with the red door."

"Red door," Cameron repeated as she waved over another nurse that was passing. "Take her to psych," she instructed the nurse. "She has a therapy session. I am going to her home to check on her brother, who is HIV-positive and might have TB." Even as she said them, the words sounded unreal to her. Sipho couldn't have TB, he simply couldn't. She smiled a reassuring smile she did not believe to Nomzamo and then walked quickly out of the clinic. Even though Nomzamo had told her they lived close, as Cameron walked down the street, it still surprised her how close to the clinic the two siblings lived. It took only five minutes for her to come across the group of homes that Nomzamo had mentioned. She quickly found the one with the red door but approached it hesitantly, suddenly afraid of what she might find when she opened the door.

As Nomzamo had told her someone else was home, Cameron raised her hand and knocked on the thin door. The door was opened a moment later.

Cameron's jaw dropped. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

The man's gruff face was unusually grim. "Just get inside," he said in a low voice. Cameron hesitated, unsure of what was happening, which he noticed. "Get in now - he's circling the drain as we speak!"

She hurried across the threshold, panic gripping at her heart. She followed him into a small living room. Sipho was lying on a cot, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes closed. For one heart-stopping second, Cameron feared he was dead, but then she noticed his chest slowly rising up and down. She looked over to the table where there was a cold compress and a thermometer. _At least he was being taken care of…_

"How bad is it?" Her throat felt unnaturally dry.

"104," he answered tonelessly.

Cameron swallowed hard and grabbed the cold compress from the table. She slowly approached Sipho and pressed it to his head. He shuddered slightly at the movement, but his eyes remained closed. Cameron continued to watch him as she voiced the question that had entered her mind from the moment she had seen the man in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, House?"

"I had to know."

The emotions she had been keeping at bay came rushing forth and she snapped at him. "You 'had to know' that he's dying? Damn it, House, this isn't some patient at Princeton!" She pressed the compress harder to Sipho's forehead, as though the added pressure would reduce his body temperature faster. "Just get out. Leave! I can take care of him from here."

He didn't head for the door, but instead took a step closer to her. "You don't want me to leave. You're secretly hoping I'll stay."

She could feel her frustration mounting. "I'm not," she hissed.

"Liar."

She glared at him. "Shut up, House. Just shut up. You were right about TB, and now you get to watch him die. Isn't that enough? You never spend time with patients, so don't start now."

"I'm not dying."

Cameron's eyes widened as she turned back to Sipho. His eyes were still closed, but he was touching her left wrist with his right hand. Cameron grasped his hand and squeezed it gently. "Of course you're not."

"Now can I call you a liar?"

Her eyes snapped back to House, but before she could retort, Sipho cut across her. "She's not lying. I'm too strong to die."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Yes, you are," she murmured, stroking his hair. Her hand brushed against his forehead and she pulled back as though she had been burned. "We have to get you to the clinic. You need antibiotics."

"He's never going to make it."

"If you have nothing helpful to say, don't say anything at all," Cameron said without turning around. "You can make it, right, Sipho?" she asked, running a single finger down his cheek.

He opened his eyes. "Of course, Allison," he said. He raised his arms. "Help me get up."

In spite of herself, Cameron's eyes flickered back to House. He shook his head gravely.

"Take my hands."

"Sipho…" she began, turning back to him again. "You aren't going to be able to walk. The physical activity will be too much for your lungs. We'll have to get you to the clinic another way."

Sipho's arms dropped to his sides. "Danny's friend..." he muttered. "The friend has a car."

"Scott?" Cameron recalled. "I can see if he's at the clinic, but he doesn't always hang around…"

"There's no time for that," House said gruffly. He limped closer, hovering above where Sipho lay. "One of us is going to have to carry him. And by one of us, I mean the non-crippled one." He looked at her wrist. "Oh, wait, that makes two of us. Sorry, Simba, guess that means you're toast."

Cameron glared at him. "I can carry him on my back." She waited for House's objection, but when it didn't come, she said, "Help me get him up." To her surprise, he obliged and together they managed to get Sipho up from the cot. He wrapped his arms securely around her neck.

"There you go, little piggy," House said as he picked up his cane. "This fair maiden will carry you all the way home." Cameron threw him a look, but he missed it as he started for the door. He called over his shoulder, "Onward, Girl Scout! If you make it, you earn your saving a dying child in the godforsaken wilderness badge!"

* * *

**A/N:** Review and you shall be rewarded. Please?


	14. Mortality

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**A/N:** I'm really sorry about the long wait. It was a combination of my being in Spain, my tendinitis deciding to come back, and my lack of communication with my beta (there is, after all, a seven hour time difference) that prevented me from posting this chapter sooner. The good news is that chapter 15 is already written and beta'd; I just have to make the changes and then it can be posted too. I promise, on my honor, to have that chapter up by the end of the week. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time. Please keep it up!

Information about TB was taken from Wikipedia.

**A/N:** Melissa, iby.

* * *

They reached the clinic in ten minutes.

Cameron hurriedly pushed open the door and brought Sipho to the nearest unoccupied bed. He slid easily off her back and onto the bed, his eyes half-closed and his hands clasped together. Despite his high fever, he was shivering. She willed herself to believe he wouldn't die, but it scared her just to look at him. To avoid watching him shake, she walked away and grabbed some blankets from the supply closet. When she returned, House was holding the thermometer and shaking his head.

"No change?" she asked desperately.

"Not the kind you want." She thought she might have imagined it, but House's blue eyes looked almost concerned. She wrapped the blankets around Sipho and brushed back his bangs from his forehead.

"Allison?" he mumbled without opening his eyes.

Cameron grabbed his hand with her good one and laced her fingers through it. "I'm here," she said.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

His words felt like a dagger through her heart. Not even twenty minutes ago he had declared he was not dying, that he was too strong to die. Now he sounded like he expected it to come any minute. Cameron saw House move out of the corner of her eye, but he did not speak. Swallowing the lump that had begun to form in her throat, she responded, "No."

"Really?" he asked. His question was not one of hope, but one of almost painfully familiar sarcasm. If she hadn't seen Sipho's mouth form the words, Cameron would have guessed the speaker to be House. "Would you tell me if I were?"

Cameron shook her head, her eyes full of tears. She was grateful Sipho's eyes were still closed; she didn't want him to see her cry. Unwillingly, she looked at House, trying desperately to convey the sense of helplessness she felt, and silently willing him to understand, to care.

He seemed to have received the message. Stepping forward, he said in a low voice, "I would."

She saw Sipho try to smile, but he was hit by a coughing attack instead. She watched in horror as the spasms wracked his frail body. She saw House take another step closer to the bed and wondered vaguely if this was the longest amount of time he had ever spent with a single patient. The attack subsided quickly, but its end did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Nomzamo is here," Cameron said, suddenly remembering that she had seen the teenager an hour earlier. "She's probably done with her session by now. Do you want me to find her?"

"No," Sipho whispered, and Cameron was alarmed at how weak his voice sounded. "I don't want her to see me like this." When she continued to look uncertain, Sipho added, "We said good-bye this morning. She knows that it might happen. I don't want her to be scared." Unexpectedly, she felt him squeeze her hand. "I don't want you to be scared either."

"I'm not scared," Cameron said quickly. But she knew it was a lie. She hadn't felt this helpless since she'd watched her husband die of cancer, and she hadn't even begun med-school then. Now she had the necessary skills to save the patient, if only he could be saved. She did not need her medical degree to remind her that HIV and TB were a fatal combination.

"Bullshit." Cameron whirled around, but she already knew it was House who had spoken. "She's terrified. She always gets attached to things that are about to die."

If the tears had not been flowing hard enough before, they were cascading down her cheeks now. "House," she said angrily, but her anger was hidden by the emotion in her voice. "House," she tried again, and this time, her voice did not betray her, "Sipho is not going to die. We have to do something. There must be some antibiotics here. Go ask one of the nurses."

He shook his head. "Even with antibiotics, he's only got a slim chance. He's HIV-positive; the bacteria have already weakened him too much."

"We have to try!" Cameron exclaimed. "We can't just give up. If you don't want to go, I will." She squeezed Sipho's hand. "I'll be right back, okay?" She squeezed his hand again and then released it. She threw House an angry look as she passed him. As she walked down the hall, Cameron was struck by a horrifying realization – the last shipment of TB medication had been stolen from them. She and Mary had been sent to pick up the shipment, and they had lost it when they were shot at in the woods. She unconsciously rubbed her wrist. Panic gripped her and her heart began to pound. There were still a chance the clinic had TB medication from the previous supply, but the chance was slim, given the number of patients they had seen recently. The next shipment was not due to arrive for another two days at least.

Cameron raced to the medicine cabinet and flung it open. Her eyes scanned the labels for Rifampicin or Isoniazid, but neither label could be found. Refusing to give up, she started pushing bottles aside, hoping against hope that there was a forgotten bottle of one of the TB antibiotics somewhere in the cabinet. She did a double-take when she realized one of the bottles hidden in the back was of Rifampicin. She pulled the bottle out and shook it. The contents barely made a sound. Biting her lip, she unscrewed the cap. She turned the bottle over and dumped the contents into her hand. There were only three pills. Cameron knew it was better than nothing, but it wouldn't be enough to cure him. She dumped the pills back into the bottle and went back to Sipho's bed.

"Rifampicin," she said, holding out the bottle to House. He took it from her and she watched as he held the bottle up to his ear and shook it.

"There can't be more than four pills in here," he told her. "No way that's enough."

"It's better than nothing, isn't it?" she retorted fiercely. She held her hand out for the bottle, but House didn't give it to her. "Come on," she said impatiently. "Give me the pills."

He unscrewed the cap and peered inside the bottle. After a moment, he looked back up. "TB treatment takes six months, and that's the short course. Three pills aren't going to do squat."

"House," she hissed, "don't say that."

"He's circling the drain as it is," House pressed on, though his voice was slightly lowered. "This isn't an allergic reaction that you can solve with an epi-pen. This is TB. It's a bacteria that requires-"

"I know what it is!" she snapped.

To her surprise, House didn't answer her, but instead looked at Sipho. "Did your patient consent to treatment?"

Cameron could have slapped him. "Of course he did, House!" she snapped. "He doesn't want to die now. He wants to grow up and find the cure for AIDS. For the last time, give me the damn pills!"

"No."

She opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn't find the words. For it had not been House who had spoken, as she had originally thought, but Sipho. Cameron turned around and looked at him. His eyes were open this time and he was looking at her with an almost pitying expression.

"What did you say?" she whispered in disbelief.

He blinked. "I said…no. _No_, Allison. I don't want the drugs."

She could feel the tears coming back and she wished Sipho would close his eyes again. "Why not?"

"Give them to someone else," he said in his raspy voice. "It's too late for me. I have HIV. I know I'm going to die. Give them to someone you can save."

She couldn't stop herself; the tears began falling again. "But I can save you, Sipho," she insisted. "I don't want to save someone else, I want to save _you_."

"I love you." He didn't seem to be listening to her.

Cameron rounded on House, who was watching them with a dispassionate expression on his face. "What did you tell him?" she demanded. "What did you say to him that made him change his mind?"

"Nothing he didn't already know." His tone was maddeningly calm. She slapped him. He flinched, but did not otherwise react.

"I want a real answer!" She didn't care that she had just hit her former boss. All she cared about was buying Sipho more time. He still hadn't answered her. She raised her good hand to hit him again, but he grabbed her wrist.

"I told him that doctors never have enough medicine. I told him that there was a limited amount of time, money, and resources. We can't save everyone. Then you came back. He drew the rest of the conclusions for himself." She felt fury inside her and she struggled to free her hand from him, but he tightened his grip. "Pull yourself together!" he snapped at her. "He's your patient and he's dying. Is this the last thing you want him to hear?"

Her hand went limp, and when House released it, it dropped to her side. She grabbed onto the edge of Sipho's bed for support, no longer caring that he could hear her crying, as she did not have the energy to hold back the tears any longer. The weight of the situation had finally sunk in, the unfairness of it all. Looking at him struggle to breathe, she felt as though her own heart had been ripped out and stomped on. Lost in her despair, she hadn't realized that Sipho was speaking again.

"Allison," he mumbled. She stopped crying abruptly and gulped the tears down her throat. "It's not scary, right? Death isn't scary, it's just like sleeping. Right?"

She fought for composure as she answered, "Right." She hastily brushed the tears from her eyes. "Right, it is. I'm sure of it. And then you'll see your mom again."

"Mama," he muttered. "I miss her."

"You'll see her again soon," Cameron whispered.

He looked at her through half-open eyes. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," she responded sincerely.

He hesitated a moment and then said fiercely, "Leave." Cameron opened her mouth to protest, but Sipho continued, "After I die. Go home. With House. Go back to America with him."

Cameron looked at House and her expression was plain. _Did you put him up to this?_ House shook his head.

"I love you," Sipho said again.

"I know," Cameron replied. "I love you, too."

"Sipho loves you," he repeated. Cameron bit her lip. She knew the delirium was taking over if Sipho had begun talking in third person. "He loves you very much, too. Don't forget to let him love you."

"I won't," she promised.

"He stayed for you," Sipho muttered. "He didn't stay for me, he stayed for you. He loves you. Go back to America with him."

Cameron's eyes narrowed. Sipho hadn't been talking about himself; he had been talking about…_House_? Cameron glanced at House, but his expression was unreadable. She looked back at Sipho. He was reaching out his hand to her. She took it, and he placed their hands over his heart. He then reached out his other hand to House. Cameron turned to watch her former boss's reaction. To her surprise, he limped forward and took Sipho's hand. Sipho moved their hands over his heart, too, so that Cameron and House's hands were touching.

"Ah," he said, and his voice was so faint, he might have been talking to himself. "Can you feel it, too?" He shuddered.

He died.

* * *

**A/N: **If you kill me, you'll never find out what happens next. If you don't review, you won't find out either!

**P.S.** I Will Follow You Into the Dark has the next two chapters written. They are sitting in Melissa's inbox to be beta'd as we speak. Expect at least one update of that story later this week.


	15. Purgatory

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**A/N:** Here you go! Thanks to everyone that reviewed last time. Mortality was one of my favorite chapters to write (I would say _the_ favorite, but I'm not entirely sure that's true) and it was very heartening to hear that the rest of you enjoyed it a lot too. Enjoy the speedy update!

**A/N:** Melissa!

* * *

"Cameron."

She heard him say her name, and she knew it hadn't been in the form of a question. He wasn't asking her if she was still with him, or if she was okay, or if she realized what had happened. He already knew what had happened, and he knew that she knew, too, because both of them could feel that the hand beneath theirs had suddenly gone still and limp. He didn't say anything else, and she didn't move either. She didn't turn around to look at him; she couldn't. Frozen in shock and horror, she could only stare at Sipho's now glassy and still eyes.

"Cameron…" This time House's voice was louder, as though he were giving her a warning. Still, she could not tear her eyes away from Sipho's. Her own eyes slowly filled with tears the longer she stared at his body, but she could not blink, and so they would not fall. Disbelief permeated her thoughts, and for a moment, she felt as though she couldn't breathe. She blinked and the spell was broken; tears began cascading down her cheeks and she laid her head across Sipho's chest as her tears flowed onto his shirt.

She was dimly aware of the noise she was making and the fact she was not alone in this clinic, but she was unable to care enough to stop herself. She was unable to stop at all. The other family members threw her sympathetic looks as they passed by, but Cameron knew that they understood her anguish, for it was their own. The mothers understood her great sense of loss, for they could imagine what it was like to lose a son. She had been there six times to see it happen. She knew that Sipho hadn't really been her son, but he'd had no mother, no woman to cry over his dead body as she was doing now. He had a sister, but sisters tended to be more reserved in their displays of grief. Today, she was his mother.

She didn't know when exactly House had left, but she eventually became aware of the fact there was no one standing next to her. She found that she didn't care that House was unable to stand there with her as she grieved, and she only buried her face into Sipho's chest further, shielding her face from the rest of the world. She didn't hear the footsteps behind her and didn't realize someone else was standing beside her until they spoke.

"Come on, Allison."

She knew it was Weiss; House would never have used her given name, nor could he have ever sounded so gentle. She felt Weiss' hand on her shoulder, but she could not bear to pull herself away from Sipho. The thought of leaving him cold, dead, and alone scared her, and she began to hyperventilate, knowing that Weiss would soon make her leave. The moment her breathing became more sporadic, she felt another pair of hands on her shoulders, this time rougher. Their owner did not say anything, but instead dragged her away from the body. She tried to fight, but the grip was too strong. A sense of dizziness overwhelmed her, and in that moment of weakness, she was dragged completely away from Sipho. Strong arms wrapped around her chest, holding her upright from behind.

"I need you to breathe slowly and evenly." This time, it was House who had spoken, and she knew he had been the one to pull her away from Sipho. The feeling of loss threatened to drown her again, and she felt House's grip tighten around her. "Breathe, damn it, unless you _want_ to make yourself faint!"

"House," another voice said sharply. She recognized it as belonging to Weiss. He was now standing over Sipho's body, arranging his lifeless hands neatly over his chest and closing his eyelids. Cameron struggled to get a grip on herself, but she felt her focus slipping away. The familiar feelings of unbearable grief washed over her; despite having been buried for almost ten years, they ripped through her as fresh and volatile as though the loss had been only yesterday. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. She suddenly found herself being forced into a sitting position with her head thrust between her legs.

"Just stay that way," House ordered. She thought she heard a hint of annoyance in his voice. Cameron took several gulps of air. She felt someone's hand running down her back slowly. She figured it must have been Weiss because House could never show that amount of compassion or concern for or about anyone. Her breathing slowly evened out to the rhythm of the comforting movement on her back. She managed to look up in time to see Weiss moving toward her.

"You can go," Weiss said to House as he approached. "I can take it from here." She felt the hand leave her back as House stood and limped over to where he had left his cane. A moment later, he was gone. Cameron sat up slowly and Weiss pulled her into his chest.

"There was nothing more you could have done," Weiss said softly. "He had tuberculosis and HIV. It's a fatal combination."

Somehow these words were not comforting to her. She pulled back and studied his face. "There's always more we could have done. I didn't give him the medication. We had antibiotics, and I didn't give them to him."

"It doesn't matter," Weiss responded. "The antibiotics would have been too late to save him anyway. These things just happen, Allison. You can't save everyone."

She stood up suddenly and pushed him away from her. Her defiance stopped her tears. "I want to be alone," she told him. She turned around before he could say another word and walked away from him, away from Sipho, through the front door and out of the clinic. She would have run if it had been allowed. As soon as she reached the fresh air, she broke her stride and leaned forward, her hands on her knees as another emotional tidal wave rolled over her. She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself. She looked up out of the corner of her eye and saw House standing there, about twenty feet away from her, just watching. He didn't make any motion toward her, but she knew he had seen her. She slowly stood up and walked over to him.

"This isn't at all how the movie is supposed to play out," he said as she approached.

"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about.

"_The Lion King_," he explained. "Simba isn't supposed to die, Mufasa is. The circle of life is broken if the kid dies first."

Cameron was stunned. "Is this supposed to make me feel _better_?"

House fell silent, and Cameron didn't say anything else either. It was several minutes before House spoke again. "I'm proud of you."

"What?"

"Doogie Howser back there. When he died, you didn't try to resuscitate him. That's good. That's acceptance. It's progress for you. I like it." She frowned at him; this wasn't at all what she had expected to hear. He continued anyway, "I need doctors that can accept when it's over to work for me."

"I don't work for you anymore."

"But you could." He looked at her seriously and his eyes seemed so blue it was as though they reflected the sky where she imagined Sipho's soul to be. Her memory of Sipho's death and House's offer caused anger to flare inside her.

"You're springing this on me _now_?" she asked angrily. "What, trying to catch me in an emotionally vulnerable state so that I'll be easier to break? I'm tired of playing these games, House; that's part of the reason I left in the first place."

He shook his head. "These aren't games. I felt it, too."

"Felt what?"

"The connection between us."

The words hit her like an avalanche. Sipho's last words, the last vibrations of air and sound to pass through his lips had been about her and House, and whatever he could supposedly feel between them. He had been in a delirious state when he'd said that, she insisted. But it killed her to think of Sipho as wrong, as though it were somehow disrespectful to his memory.

She decided to contradict House instead. "You can't make me come back by telling me that you love me."

"That's funny, I don't remember saying that I love you. I only said that the lion cub had a point."

She took the bait. "Point being?"

"You should come back to America with me."

Cameron sighed and looked away from House. She wrapped her arms around herself as she thought. Sipho had told her to leave with House, to go back to America with him. Sipho had also thought that House saw her in a romantic light, something of which she was sure he was mistaken, insult to his memory or not. And if she left, she would have to end her relationship with Weiss, that much was certain. But Sipho would certainly have made that connection, too, and he had told her to go back to America anyway. Did that mean he wanted her to break up with Weiss, that he'd thought she and House had a chance to be together? She let out another sigh. She couldn't keep thinking like this, as though she had to follow a dead boy's advice.

"Was he right?" she whispered.

House looked at her for a long time, but did not ask about knew that he knew. Finally, he replied, "I didn't come back for him."

His response surprised her, but she wasn't sure why exactly. Surely the great diagnostician would not come back to a case that he had already solved merely to see if he had been right about the diagnosis. Doctors like House did not doubt themselves when it came to things like that. "Why?" she asked simply.

"I couldn't let you stay here. The mail's been piling up, and Chase refuses to pick up the slack." She didn't respond, but her eyes narrowed. "You're an idiot if you want to stay in some third world country and get yourself killed."

"Why do you care what I do?" she challenged him.

She could tell she had caught him off guard as he did not seem to know how to respond. His eyes bore into hers as though pleading with her not to make him answer that question. She knew that he must have known the answer if he didn't want to give it. She didn't concede, but instead waited patiently for him to reply.

"I don't know," he answered at last. His tone was resigned and held reservations. She knew he was being honest.

"I need to hear you say it," she said.

His eyes widened but he didn't say anything about her demand. Instead he kept looking at her, never dropping his gaze. She saw him swallow, and then he said, "I care about you."

"Okay."

"So you'll come back to the good ol' US of A with me?"

She glanced back at the clinic, where she knew Weiss to be. Agreeing to leave with House would mean leaving him behind. She wondered if she should discuss it with him first, and then decided against it. He would only try to convince her to stay, and Cameron did not want to be convinced. The finality of her decision weighed in her stomach. "I have another month on my contract," she found herself saying.

He shrugged. "Screw it?"

"No."

His eyes challenged her, daring her to equivocate, but she held her ground. She knew it was the right thing to do. When her resolve did not break, he asked, "But after that month?"

Her gaze flitted back to the clinic and then back to him. "First plane out of here."

He nodded approvingly. "Good."

He leaned closer to her, and for one wild second, she thought he was going to kiss her. The next moment, tears welled in her eyes again and she quickly covered her face with her hands and turned away. She expected him to leave, but the next thing she knew, he was pulling her into his chest and letting her cry against his shoulder.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review! There is only one chapter after this, which I have yet to begin writing, but I hope to have done sometime in the next week/two weeks. I also hope to post I Will Follow You Into the Dark really soon - I know I promised an update this week, and hopefully that will happen, but I haven't made any edits yet.


	16. Redemption

**A/N:** I own nothing. Nothing, nada, nil.

**A/N: **As this is the last chapter, the big author note is at the end. But I still have a lot of love for my reviewers and Melissa.

* * *

The bracelet of the dream catcher caught the light as she twirled it in her hands. She gently ran her fingers over the yarn tassels. Her sprained wrist no longer needed the support of an ACE bandage, though it still pained her occasionally, an infrequent reminder of Mary's death. The dream catcher was a more painful reminder, however, because it reminded her of Sipho.

It had been one month since his death. There still hadn't been a day when she hadn't thought of him, but then again, she thought of her dead husband once a day, too, and his death had been years ago. Nomzamo stopped coming to the clinic altogether after her brother died. Although Cameron had been concerned, and Weiss shared her sentiment, they both had to concede that short of going to Nomzamo's house and sitting down with her, there was no way to make the girl get treatment. Cameron suspected that Nomzamo only came to her appointments in the first place because Sipho had made her, though she tried not to remind herself of this, as it made her think of Sipho.

She turned the dream catcher over and reread the note that Sipho had written to her. _Nightmares, nightmares, go away, you are not welcome here to stay. Don't you dare come back again. Leave alone my dear friend Allison. _She felt the familiar sense of loss welling inside her, but she did not cry, as she did not have any tears left. Her eyes looked away from the gift and instead fell on the headstone at her feet.

Nomzamo had been in no state to handle funeral arrangements, but she had been clear about one thing: Sipho's cremation. Their mother, Cameron had found out, had been cremated as well, and her ashes had been scattered in the dirt surrounding their home. At first she had been appalled at the idea of scattering Sipho's body in so many places, but she needn't have worried. Nomzamo insisted that Sipho's ashes be kept together, in an urn inside their home.

As it turned out, however, Nomzamo did not feel comfortable keeping the ashes of her dead brother so close to her. Two weeks after Sipho's death, she had returned to the clinic with the urn, insisting in Afrikaans that the ashes haunted her. She had begged Cameron and Weiss, who was translating, to bury the urn outside the clinic. They had obliged, and marked the place where the ashes lay with a smooth rock they had transformed into a headstone. The headstone was just visible from outside the clinic windows; it was usually hidden by several flowers brought by the doctors and nurses who Sipho had befriended in his time at the clinic. Cameron was one of the most frequent visitors at his grave.

Resolved, she pulled the pen and notepad that she had tucked away out from her pocket. Balancing the notepad in her now-healed left hand, she began to write. She wasn't much of a poet, but she felt that she had to at least try. Ten minutes and seven crumpled post-it notes later, Cameron reread her final message:

_Nightmares, nightmares, go away._

_Good dreams, good dreams, forever stay._

_Though he walks in valleys I don't know,_

_Always protect my dear friend Sipho._

Satisfied, she pulled off the sticky-note and attached it to the paper on which Sipho had written her a message. She admired the dream catcher for a minute, running her fingers through the yarn tassels one last time. She knew that by putting the dream catcher on his grave, she was forever giving it up, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Cameron bent forward and placed the dream catcher gently next to a large bouquet of flowers. She stepped back to admire the display, but then stopped herself. She had a nagging feeling she should say something. She had so far managed to avoid talking to the headstone as though she could still talk to Sipho, but the finality of her visit compelled her to change her mind. Slowly, she knelt in front of the headstone and placed her hand on the smooth surface.

"Hey, Sipho," she whispered. She waited a moment for a response, but there was none. She continued, "I hope you're having fun with your mom. I'm sure she's beautiful." Cameron paused to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Though she hadn't cried in weeks, she could feel her resolution dissolving. "Nomzamo was okay, last time I saw her. She stopped coming to her sessions a few weeks ago. But you already knew that, right?" She absently rubbed her hand against the headstone. "I'm okay, too. I'm leaving tonight. I'm doing what you told me to do, I'm going home. I'm going back to work for House, actually…" She had surprised even herself by that decision, but she knew that she could not stand going back to Yule. She smiled, and then leaned even closer. "You might be right about him."

She felt something move near her shoulder, as though it had been lightly brushed by someone passing by. She looked, but there was nothing there. It must have been just the breeze, she mused. But it made her feel better all the same.

"Allison?"

Cameron turned around, though she already knew who had spoken. Weiss was standing behind her, looking slightly apprehensive. Her decision to return to America after her contract expired had marked the beginning of the end for their relationship. He had been upset at first, but he had resigned himself in the end. They had kept a cordial relationship at work, but had slowly begun distancing themselves in their personal lives. She hadn't been alone with him in nearly a week before now.

"Hey," she said, as she pushed herself to her feet. She gestured unnecessarily to the grave. "I was just saying good-bye."

He nodded. "Scott just left to get the van. He should be back in twenty minutes or so." He stepped closer to her, and after a slightly awkward pause, put his hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch when he touched her, although the contact surprised her. "I'm going to miss you," he said quietly.

"I will miss you, too." She knew it wasn't a lie. Even though it hadn't worked out romantically between them, Weiss had still been a good friend the past two months, and she felt a small twinge of regret as she looked at him now. She brought her hand to his face and gently brushed his cheek. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He put his hand over hers. "You too."

Cameron slowly leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Good-bye, Danny," she whispered. She held his gaze another moment, and then turned to leave.

"Allison…" He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave and pulled her into a tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against hers and she felt the twinge of regret rising in her chest again. She knew that she was doing the right thing by leaving, but part of her knew that she was walking away from someone with real potential.

He held her for a long time. They had been silent for a while, but then he unexpectedly said, "Don't let him hurt you." She was surprised by the bitter conviction in his voice. She looked at his face and saw the hurt mounting in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "And I won't."

He moved toward her then, and Cameron realized what was going to happen just before it did. As soon as his lips met hers, she pulled back. "No," she said softly, but still firmly. "Come on, Danny. You know it's over."

He didn't answer, but instead seemed to be looking at something over her shoulder. "House isn't meeting you here, is he?"

"Of course not," Cameron said briskly. "He knows I'm a big girl. I can make it on a plane by myself."

"Really?" Weiss replied. "Turn around."

She did, and there he was, standing about one hundred feet away from her. He was gazing at her with an inscrutable expression, leaning slightly on his cane as he watched her. Cameron turned back to Weiss, who he gave her a slight nod, which she took to be encouragement. She looked back at House, and then slowly began walking toward him. He didn't say anything until she was standing right in front of him.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"I could have made it back myself, you know," she said, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "You didn't have to come all the way to South Africa to pick me up."

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't get any fancy ideas."

"Right," she said, a smile creeping across her face.

"That's all I get as a greeting?" he asked gruffly. "Suspicion and a one word answer? I flew twenty hours to get here. I think I deserve a bit more than that."

She smiled and brought her hands to his face. His stubble tickled beneath her fingertips. She leaned in and kissed him.

Somewhere above her, a young boy grinned.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Of all my stories, this one took me the longest to write. Nearly abandoned twice, once for almost a year, it took a RL visit with my beta for me to jump start it back into action. I'm so glad that I did. It's been a long time since I've written anything this long; in fact, the only other story I have of this length is one that I no longer encourage people to read.

I adore this story. There have definitely been some chapters that I disliked, but these last three chapters have been some of my favorite chapters ever to write, especially this one (Redemption) and Mortality (Sipho's death). Sipho was my favorite character to write. Weiss I enjoyed a lot more than I thought I would. Original versions of this story had Weiss dying instead of Mary, but I liked him too much to kill him off like that. I'm sure some Hameron fans are now wishing he bit the bullet instead of her.

Before I can finish one story, I must at least have an idea for the next one. In this case, the next story has already been posted: _I Will Follow You Into the Dark_. The first chapter is posted; the second will be posted as soon as I finish posting this chapter. If you are interested, check it out. I have two other stories in the works, _One Second to Die _(which I promised at the end of _Cetera Desunt_ would be posted next, but if you don't like it, take it up with my muse), and one that so far only has a title, which I shall announce later. Put me on author alert if you want to stay tuned.

Now I'm going to say something that will make all but one of my readers (Pandorama, I'm looking at you) very upset. This is my last Hameron story, at least for awhile. The stories I talked about above are all Chameron. This is not because I'm suddenly sold on Huddy – I'm not. Cameron's absence has played more of a role in my Hameron despair than the explicit Huddy. It's been awhile since we've seen a real Hameron spark on the show, and I actually kind of like Cameron and Chase together. I'm sure you know this by now, but my pairing doesn't mean much in terms of romance. The pairing for me is generally the two canon characters around which drama will revolve.

I would be horribly remiss if I failed to thank, once more, my beta and my reviewers. Melissa, thank you for everything. You shifted through terrible versions of both this story and several chapters of it; you translated Afrikaans and helped me find information about MSF and Khayelitsha. You inspired me to continue when I thought this story would never be touched again. In short, you are the best beta I could ever ask for.

To my reviewers, your support on this story especially has meant the world to me. It's amazing that after abandoning this story for so long, more than once, I still had people following it. Each and every review that you have left has helped me get this story to where it is today. I can never thank you enough for your continued support.

I believe that's all I wanted to say. Oh – except for one last thing. I know that I said this story would be happy. Despite all the tragedy (Mary's death, Sipho's death, etc.), did I at least make you smile in the end?

-holadios


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